>1 KLEGG: 


SI, SHORTY AND THE BOYS ARE CAPTURED AT 
KENESAW AND TAKEN TO ANDERSONV1LLE 


BY JOHN MCELROY 



BOOK No. 7 


Published by 


The National Tribune, Washington, D. C. 










m 








WAR. 




SI KLEGG 


SI, SHORTY AND THE BOYS ARE CAPTURED AT 
KENESAW AND TAKEN TO ANDERSONVILLE 


By John Mcelroy. 



PUBLISHED BY 

THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE COMPANY, 
WASHINGTON, D. C. 





S 


SECOND EDITION — ENLARGED AND REVISED. 
COPYRIGHT 1916. 

BY THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE COMPANY. 


J(JL -5 ISIG . 



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©C1.A481751 

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PREFACE. 


“Si Klegg, of the 200th Inch, and Shorty, his 
Partner,” were born years ago in the brain of John 
McElroy, Editor of The National Tribune. 

These sketches are the original ones published in 
The National Tribune, revised and enlarged some- 
what by the author. How true they are to nature 
every veteran can abundantly testify from his own 
service. Really, only the name of the regiment was 
invented. There is no doubt that there were several 
men of the name of Josiah Klegg in the Union 
Army, and who did valiant service for the Govern- 
ment. They had experiences akin to, if not identical 
with, those narrated here, and substantially every 
man who faithfully and bravely carried a musket in 
defense of the best Government on earth had some- 
times, if not often, experiences of which those of 
Si Klegg are a strong reminder. 


The Publishers. 


f 



THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
TO THE RANK AND FILE 

OF THE GRANDEST ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR. 








CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Chapter I. — Shorty Receives and Reads a Letter from 

Maria 13 

Chapter II. — Pete and Sandy “Monkey ?!/ With a Percus- 
sion Shell 29 

Chapter III. — Si and His Boys Take Part in a “Demon- 
stration” and Wander Inside the Rebel Lines 40 

Chapter IV. — The East Tennesseans Execute Ven- 
geance on Their Prosecutors — Advancing the Line 
of Works 56 

Chapter V. — A Mission of Vengeance by the East Ten- 
nesseans Leads to the Breaking of the Rebel Lines. . 73 

Chapter VI. — The Bloody Assault on Kenesaw Moun- 
tain — the 200th Ind.'s Bitter Struggle to Reach the 
Rebel Works — Fearful Losses — Si and Shorty Taken 
Prisoners 89 

Chapter VII. — The First Day of Imprisonment And Its 

Bitter Experiences, 106 

Chapter VIII. — On the Train for Andersonville 119 

Chapter IX.- — They Reach Andersonville 137 

Chapter X. — First Day in the Andersonville Stockade. . 153 

Chapter XI. — The Boys 'Get a Good Start for a “Tent” 168 

Chapter XII, — Each Day Brings Fresh Experiences to 

the Boys 183 

OftAPTER XIII. — The Boys Learn More of the Ways of 
Andersonville and Have An Encounter With Gapt. 

Wirz 196 


Chapter XIV. — Si and the Boys Get Out of the Scrape 


and Bring Their Bundles Inside 21\ 

Chapter XV. — The Boys Make a Purchase of Some 

Hardtack 222 

Chapter XVI. — The Boys Have Some Experience With 

Tunnels 238 


Chapter XVII. — The Boys Begin Work on the Tunnel. . 250 
Chapter XVIII. — An Unexpected Mishap to the Tunnel 265 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Frontispiece 


It Was Raining 23 

Basil Peters Coolly Wiped His Gun 59 

“Use Your Bay’net” 85 

Crack! Went the Stones 117 

“I’ll Done Give This Hat o’ Mine an’ a Half Plug o’ Ter- 

backer to Boot” 121 

“That’s The Yankee Buryin’ Ground,” 'Wheezed Asth- 
matic Eph Perkins 143' 

Si Pleads for Little Pete 155 

“He,” Said Stivers, “is My Helper” 177 

“Keep the Thing,” Said Shorty 191 

With Shorty in the Lead, the Boys Encounter Capt. 

Wirz 207 

Tibbetts Left Alone With the Prisoners. . . . 217 

Si and Shorty Make a Purchase of Hardtack 235 

The Guard Fired Instantly 249 

“But See How Funny Hit Made My Hands Look” 251 

Si and Shorty Talk to Ike Deeble 255 

“I Can See ’Em Gettin’ Peakeder an’ Peakeder Every 

Doy” 271 


THIS IS NUMBER SEVEN 
Of' THE 


SI KLEGG SERIES 


SYNOPSIS OF THE PRECEDING CHAPTERS. 


In the preceding chapter, which closed the volume before 
this, Si and Shorty had gotten into a hot squabble with a 
martinet Lieutenant of the Regular Army. In the excite- 
ment at the close of the battle, they had treated him as 
cavalierly as men often did under the, stress of circum- 
stances. The Lieutenant had preferred charges against them 
and brought them before a Court-Martial. The Court was 
strongly inclined to the boys on account of their splendid 
record as soldiers, but had to impose discipline. 

The Judge-Advocate had a double duty to perform by vir- 
tue of his office, where he represented both the Army and 
the defendants. He made strong speeches as to the enormity 
of the offense that had been committed,! and then made ex- 
tenuating pleas for men who had been such model soldiers. 
The Court listened with due attention to his arguments in 
favor of discipline^ but giving" much more weight to the 
record of the boys. Its findings imposed a strong reprimand 
upon Si and* Shorty, being administered by their ^Lieutenant. 

Little Pete, devoured by curiosity, had climbed' into a tree 
where he could overhear everything* was detected, and the 
roaring, rough-spoken, but kind-hearted President of the 
Court had ordered him bucked and gagged. 
























































































. 














V 


























































































SI KLEGG 


CHAPTER I. 


SHORTY RECEIVES AND READS A LETTER FROM MARIA. 

T HE COURT took a recess for dinner. The 
meal was a fine one. The headquarters forag- 
ers had been quite successful, the General felt 
that it was necessary to get as much enjoyment as 
possible out of their few days’ rest, the cook rose to 
the occasion, and the guests brought appetites with 
them which had been sharpened by days of rough 
and hasty snacks of coffee and broiled pork. There 
was a young roast pig on the board, with greens, 
young onions, and new potatoes, and even butter for 
their biscuits, milk for their coffee, and rare old 
apple-jack on the side. Of course, good cigars were 
furnished by the sutler. 

“One of the mysteries of this rebellion to me,” said 
the Major, toying with a tumbler of the apple-jack, 
“is why a people who can brew such a liquor as this 
ever become rebels. I can understand why a man 
who drinks Illinois sod-corn whisky would naturally 
become a rebel, or anything else that was mean and 
( 13 ) 


14 


SI KLEGG. 


hateful. Indeed, it would be hard for him to be any- 
thing else with that stuff burning in his vitals. I’ve 
had to defend men charged with all sorts of crimes, 
from the gentlemanly offense of killing their oppo- 
nents in political disputes up to the beastly vulgarity 
of beating their wives, and I’ve always told the jury 
that ‘instigated by the devil and not having the fear 
of God before his eyes’ in the indictment was the 
old English form for three fingers of sod-corn whisky 
in the defendant, and relied on their own experiences 
with it. Beer makes a man sullen and stupid, and 
anxious to be mean, but sod-corn makes a man feel 
as if he’s just got a commission smelling brim- 
stone to locate a Countyseat in sheol right in his own 
neighborhood. Now, this stuff predisposes a man 
to love and affection for all his fellow-creatures.” 

In this mood the Major led the rest back to court. 
On his way he passed by little Pete Skidmore, still 
bucked, and with a bayonet in his mouth. Pete 
turned up his eyes appealingly to him, for he was 
devoured with anxiety as to what this terrible, 
blustering man had done with Shorty. The Major 
flew into a passion at the sight. 

“Here, who in thunder is punishing this boy this 
way, I’d like to know?” roared he. “What blim- 
blammed heartless brute put that bayonet in that 
child’s mouth? He’s only a child, and ought to be 
in school. Who knows about this? Speak, some of 
you. Where’s that lunk-headed Provost-Sergeant? 
He ought to know about this. I’ll make somebody 
smart for this cruelty when I find out who’s respon- 
sible. Get me that Provost-Sergeant, I tell you. If 
he did this of his own notion, I’ll snatch his stripes 


SHORTY RECEIVES A LETTER. 


15 


off with my own hand. I’ll not allow anything like 
that to go on around where I am. Where’s that 
Provost-Sergeant ?” 

“Here comes the Sergeant now,” said some of the 
men, and that official, alarmed by the roaring, came 
up at a double-quick. 

“Here, Sergeant — you big, broad-shouldered, two- 
fisted stallion — did you buck-and-gag that child?” 

“I was ordered to,” gasped the Sergeant. 

“You were ordered to, you unfeeling roustabout? 
And you didn’t have the manhood to protest against 
it! Take that bayonet out of that child’s mouth at 
once. Who ordered you to? I’ll prefer charges 
against him this very day. I expect it was that West 
Point martinet. But I’ll have no such doings around 
me. Who ordered you to ?” 

“You did,” said the Sergeant. The men roared, 
and the officers could not conceal their smiles. 

“I?” gasped the Major. 

“Yes. This is the boy who was caught up in the 
tree listening to the court. You ordered me to take 
him out and buck-an-gag him till you decided what 
else you would do.” 

“That was your order, Major,” said the other 
officers. 

“Well, if I can’t say the roughest things without 
meaning them,” said the Major, contritely. “I’m 
afraid I’ll never get over it. Sergeant, untie the boy. 
Well, he didn’t tie you very tightly, sonny, that’s one 
comfort,” said he, examining Pete’s wrists. “You 
know, my boy, it’s an awful thing to spy on a court- 
martial. You’re so little you don’t know any better, 
but if you were a man no punishment would be too 


16 


SI KLEGG. 


severe. Let this be a lesson to you. Here’s a dollar 
for you. Go back to your company, now, and be a 
good” 

“I don’t want your money,” sobbed little Pete. “I 
don’t care a durn what you’ve done to me, or will do 
to me. I want to know if you’re goin’ to shoot Corp’l 
Elliott?” 

“There, there, sonny,” said the Major soothingly. 
“Don’t ask questions. Run off to your company.” 

“But I won’t go. I can’t go,” sobbed little Pete. 
“I can’t live anywhere till I know whether you’re 
goin’ to shoot Corp’l Elliott.” 

The boy’s distress was so evident and so poignant 
that the kind-hearted Major could not resist a little 
infraction of the secrecy of the court., 

“Don’t be so scared,” he said. “Calm down. I 
hardly think we’ll shoot Corporal Elliott. No, you 
can be sure we won’t. But don’t say anything about 
it just yet.” 

Pete’s tears instantly ceased, and he streaked off 
for the company, half a mile away. The court heard 
him yelling, a hundred yards before he reached the 
company : 

“Corp’l Elliott ain’t to be shot! Corp’l Elliott 
ain’t to be shot !” 

The next day while Si and Shorty were still in 
arrest, awaiting the approval and promulgation of 
the judgment of the court, the Orderly-Sergeant 
handed Si a letter from Annabel, and Shorty a bulky 
one from Maria. 

Both took, the letters shamefacedly. Some how 
the missives seemed to bring the folks at home into 


SHORTY RECEIVES A LETTER. 


17 


touch with their present situation, and it hurt 
awfully. 

Si fingered his letter longingly for some time, and 
then could not withstand the temptation, and slipped 
off to one side and devoured it. 

Shorty could not do this. Maria had not written 
him since the opening of the campaign, and never 
such a portentous looking message as this. His 
guilty conscience told him that in some way she had 
heard all about his fall from grace, and this letter 
was to inform him of it, administer the reproof that 
he deserved, and dismiss him from all friendship 
with the family and her. He would not open it while 
his fate was still pending, for it would seem to im- 
plicate her in his wrong-doing. He thrust it into his 
breast pocket, but kept his hand upon it, while bitter 
thoughts ran as to what she could, should, and prob- 
ably did say. 

“Well,” he said desperately, “they’ll probably send 
me to the Dry Tortugas, and that’s as good an end 
as any, for what’s the good of anything else, since 
I’ve lost all chance of her?” * 

“Where’s Si and Shorty, Orderly?” said the voice 
of Lieut. Bowersox. 

“Here we are, Lieutenant,” Si answered, coming 
forward to where he had left Shorty. Both stood 
at “attention,” and their faces set a little, but other- 
wise showed no sign of their tense anxiety as to the 
Lieutenant’s message. 

“Come off to one side, boys,” said the Lieutenant 
kindly. “I want to talk to you. I’ve just come 
from headquarters, where I went to get the General 
to approve at once the court’s decision, and so put 


18 


SI KLEGG. 


you boys out of your misery. The General was a 
little disposed to ride a high horse, and insisted that 
we should give you some sort of a dose, but I talked 
Stone River and Chickamauga to him, and said that 
you were badly needed in the company, and so he 
finally let up, on condition that I give you a skinning, 
and that you understand you have got to walk a 
mighty straight chalk in the future. It was a good 
deal of a strain on the court, but it has acquitted you 
on all the charges and specifications, and the General 
has approved the findings. But they all warn you 
not to do it again. Now think of all the severe 
things I could say to you, and imagine I have said 
them.” 

“I have already thought ’em all over, Lieuten- 
ant,” said Shorty contritely. 

“Well, the order will come down directly restoring 
you to duty. Don’t say anything about it, or make 
any demonstrations. Let it all be forgotten as soon 
as possible. We are to move at once on Cassville, 
where the rebels are promising us that long-expected 
big fight of the season.” 

The weight lifted from Shorty was so great that 
he felt that he could not stand it to read Maria’s 
letter. There was hope now that he might make a 
successful plea with her, since his own officers had 
acquitted him. He pulled the letter out, and looked 
longingly at it. 

“Here, Si and Shorty, get a move on you,” said 
the Orderly, bustling up. “You must make up for 
the time you’ve lost. The rebels have fallen back 
clear along their line, and we’re to go after them on 
the jump. We wan’t to catch ’em before they get 


SHORTY RECEIVES A LETTER. 


19 


across the Etowah River. Si, take a squad and go 
over to the Commissary and draw our rations — three 
days’, remember. Shorty, take another and go after 
ammunition. You’ll find the wagon right over there. 
Hustle, now, for it’s three days’ cooked rations, and 
100 rounds, and business right from the word go. 
You’ve been loafing long enough.” 

All the days that they had been resting on the 
banks of the Oostenaula River, the regiment had 
heard the noise of the heavy fighting far to the front, 
to the remote right and the distant left. They had 
seen the columns of men pushing forward, and had 
heard the stories of the wounded brought back, of 
the exploits and successes of the different regiments, 
and had chafed that they were having no share. 
Now their turn had come, and they were all excite- 
ment and eagerness as to what they were to do. 
Rations and cartridges were quickly issued, and 
everybody pushing forward the cooking of his 
rations, for they all knew that scant time would be 
allowed. 

Before anybody was quite ready, the bugle blew, 
and there was a rush to drink the boiling coffee, or 
pour it into canteens, and .the sizzling pork was 
crammed into haversacks, while blankets were 
hastily rolled and equipments donned. 

“We’ll halt somewhere soon, and then I’ll git a 
chance to read her letter,” said Shorty, feeling it, 
while he sipped his boiling coffee. “That girl’s got a 
temper — the temper o’ the family, undoubtedly — and 
she kin say things that just take the hair off. I 
expect she scalps me from the date-line to yours 


20 


SI KLEGG. 


truly. But, then, I’d rather be roasted by her than 
praised by any other girl that lives.” 

Again the bugle blew. 

“Fall in, Co. Q! Fall in promptly!” shouted the 
Orderly. 

“Forward! March!” sang the bugle, and the 200th 
Ind. started on a rush for the banks of the Etowah. 
The Orderly was entirely right in predicting that 
it would be “jump from the word go.” At that time 
no grass ever grew under the feet of one of the regi- 
ments of Sherman’s army, when it started on the 
march. Three years of swift, forceful, unresting 
marching, which would carry them across great 
States in a few days, had made them the finest 
marchers the world ever saw. When a regiment 
started it did not move as a crowd of men, but as 
some great, myriad-footed serpent, every portion of 
whose long body moved in exact unison with the 
same resistless energy and purpose toward its object. 
Nobody straggled, nobody fell out. No one seemed 
to think such a thing possible. Every one seemed 
only intent in pushing the great body of the regiment 
along after the Colonel’s horse. 

Such a march carried the 200th Ind. over the 
battlefield of Adairsville, still ghastly with the un- 
buried dead and fresh destruction of the recent san- 
guinary fight. It stopped but a few minutes for 
coffee there, and none to scan the scene of the latest 
victory, for the muskets were rattling, and the can- 
non thumping away to the front, and there seemed 
more need for the regiment there than studying his- 
tory that had already been made. 

Shorty had merely time to take out Maria’s letter 


SHORTY RECEIVES A LETTER. 


21 


for another furtive look at the superscription and 
postmark, when the bugle summoned him to his 
place in the great serpent. 

Miles were rushed over, with the sound of the 
firing becoming more distinct at every rise of the 
ground. The regiment halted in a piece of woods, 
from either side of which came a din of musketry 
and cannon shots. Nothing could be seen, however. 

“Apparently we’re up to our work,” remarked Si 
to his squad. “Bring your cartridge-boxes to the 
front, boys, but keep cool, and listen for orders. 
Don’t load till you git the command.” 

“Now, Pete,” cautioned Shorty, “keep right behind 
me all the time. Stay right there every minute.” 

“But I can’t see nothin’ if I stand behind you,” 
grumbled Pete. “Might as well try to look over a 
tree.” 

“Companies, left into line,” called the soft, pene- 
trating voice of the Colonel. “Right dress ! Front ! 
Load at will ! Load !” 

The regiment crashed through the brush and came 
out into the opening, in full view of a heavy line of 
works well filled with rebels and guarded in front 
with the usual infernal abatis. 

“Lord save us!” groaned Si; “there it is again. 
Brace up, boys. The sooner we’re through it the 
sooner it'll be over. All together, when the word 
comes.” 

But as he spoke the rebels could be seen hurriedly 
leaving, impelled thereto by successful attacks made 
on their line far-off to the right and left. 

“See the butternut slobs skedaddle,” yelled Shorty 
as the regiment fired a volley to accelerate the 


22 


SI KLEGG. 


enemy’s retreat, and indicate its own participation in 
the battle. “The sight of the 200th Injianny was too 
much for ’em. They kin stand everybody else but 
us.” “Now,” he added to himself, “we’ll march 
inside and go into camp. That’ll be a good place to 
read Maria’s letter. I’d ruther’ve gone through that 
abatis than took the scoldin’ she’ll give me, but since 
I escaped the abatis, I ought to take the other.” 

But the business the army had on hand was too 
pressing to admit of the regiment’s loitering in the 
works any more than on the battlefield of Adairs- 
ville. It did not enter them at all, but the moment 
it was seen that the rebels were really gone, it was 
turned by the right flank into a road and urged for- 
ward to get on the flanks of the retreating rebels 
before they could secure refuge behind another line 
of intrenchments. Nor did darkness stop it. It was 
pushed relentlessly on, until by 10 o’clock the men 
were almost dropping with fatigue, and a halt was 
necessary. 

A drenching rain set in, and Shorty was so tired 
that after he had fixed up a shelter for himself and 
Pete there was no chance to do any reading, so he 
crawled in and went tq sleep. He would get up early 
the next morning, take Maria’s sooring in the early 
daylight, before the rest were up, and meditate on 
it during the day. 

It was raining still worse the next morning, when 
at the earliest hint of dawn the tired boys were 
roused with no little difficulty, and after a very scant 
few minutes allowed for breakfast were started on 
a rush for the Etowah River to capture and save a 
bridge over which the rebels, were retreating. 


SHORTY RECEIVES A LETTER. 


23 


Shorty had little time to think of Maria in that 
long, wearisome day of long-ranging, skirmishing 
through the soaking rain, of> pushing through the 
drenched brush and the dripping woods, over the 



IT WAS RAINING. 

spongy weeds in the fields, and wading through 
muddy streams, sometimes only ankle deep and 
sometimes up to his waist, with the rebels popping 
away from most unexpected coignes and coverts. 

Night was falling as they reached the bridge. 
There was a sharp sputter of musketry and a rush 


24 


SI KLEGG. 


of Co. Q, and the bridge was gained, with a few 
scratches to pass for wounds. 

The regiment marched over the bridge, and halted 
on a little hill just beyond. 

“Well, I hope we’re goin’ to halt here for the night, 
for I’m dead tired, and I know the other boys, poor 
fellows, are worse off than I am,” said Si, rubbing 
off his brogans on the wet grass the heavy load of 
Georgia clay he had gathered in their rush up the 
road. I think we’ve done enough for one day.” 

“I think so, too,” muttered Shorty, feeling in his 
pocket for Maria’s letter. 

“Forever blast the blamed luck,” grumbled the 
Orderly-Sergeant, coming up. “We’ve got to skin 
back the way we came just as fast as we can go. 
Rebel cavalry are after a train out there somewhere, 
and we’ve got to save it. Did anybody ever see such 
rotten luck? Pick up your things and fall in, every 
one of you, at once.” 

“Gosh all Christmas,” howled Shorty, “what do 
they mean by sich blim-blammed foolishness? How 
kin we chase cavalry, when we’re too worn out to 
ketch a healthy snail, if it was goin’ away from us? 
That’s just the way we’re always imposed on. If 
there’s anything rough we’re the ones picked out 
for it, while other rijimints kin go into camp, 
and” 

“Stop that at once, Corp’l Elliott,” said the 
Orderly, his official position asserting itself, as usual, 
when anybody else assumed to grumble. “That’s no 
way for a non-commissioned officer to talk before the 
men. We’re ordered to go, because we’d halted here, 
expecting to go into camp, and the rest marched on. 


SHORTY RECEIVES A LETTER. 


25 


We’re the nearest, and it’s our place to go. The 
order’s hard, but perfectly proper, sir. There goes 
the bugle. Forward, now !” 

It was a four-mile rush backward through the rain 
and mud and darkness, before they at last found the 
train, which was plodding its way onward toward 
the river. It had seen rebel cavalry in the distance, 
in the course of the afternoon, and sent up a call for 
assistance, but that was hours ago, and the cavalry 
had disappeared almost as long ago. 

“Will we go into camp here, sir?” the Orderly 
asked of Capt. McGillicuddy, after the news had been 
thoroughly digested and every man had taken his fill 
of swearing at the stupidity of their forced march. 

“No,” answered the Captain; “we must go back 
over the bridge to where we were, so as to be ready 
to take our place in the line in the morning. We 
shall have to help in taking some works beyond the 
river early tomorrow, and must be in reaching dis- 
tance when wanted.” 

There was a general groan, which the Orderly did 
not attempt to repress. The march seemed incom- 
parably longer than all the distances gone during the 
day, and when the other side of the river was 
reached after midnight, everybody was too tired to 
more than roll himself in his blanket and lie down 
where the ranks broke, without attempting to make 
any shelter from the persistent rain. 

As usual, it seemed to them they had scarcely lain 
down when the Orderly-Sergeant roused them up at 
dawn with: 

“Get up at once, and make your coffee as quick 
as you can. We’ve got to go over and occupy the 


26 


SI KLEGG. 


works which the 1st Oshkosh’s going to move out of. 
They’re right under fire, and you won’t get a chance 
to make any coffee during the day, probably.” 

What was the use of grumbling? Things had 
passed that stage. Even little Pete felt that he 
would just as soon die there, and be done with it, 
and the bullets singing over the works as they came 
up the slope did not excite them in the least. 

“Halt,” commanded the Colonel, while they were 
still under the cover of the hill. He was a provident, 
calculating commander, and did not propose to lose 
any men that he could help. “Now, men, the works 
we’re to occupy are right in front. The rebels are 
looking for us. Every man stoop down and make a 
rush as quick as he can for the cover of the works. 
Break ranks ! March !” 

So they managed to get through, without loss, the 
storm of bullets which the rebels were sending over 
from a couple hundred yards away. 

The ditch behind the works was nearly full of 
wafer, which the former occupants had worked into 
a thin mud. But they plunged into this without 
hesitation, and were instantly covered with a batter 
of Georgia red clay. For a few minutes they loaded 
and fired as fast as they could, “to inform them 
whelps over there that they’d got a different crowd 
to deal with than them badgers from Wisconsin,” 
as Si remarked. 

Presently the firing died down to fitful sharpshoot- 
ing when either side saw something exposed to shoot 
at. This went on some hours, when the Colonel 
called down the line to Capt. McGillicuddy : 

“Captain, I think a dose of hot coffee would be a 


SHORTY RECEIVES A LETTER. 


27 


good thing to keep us from catching cold in this mud- 
bath. Send a non-commissioned officer and a couple 
of men back to round up the cooks and teamsters, 
and have them make us some kettles of coffee and 
bring up.” 

“Corp’l Elliott,” commanded Capt. McGillicuddy, 
“you hear what the Colonel says. Take a couple of 
men and do it.” 

“Come on, Pete and Sandy,” said Shorty, crawling 
up on the bank, an’ starting for the rear on all fours. 
“Keep on your hands an’ knees. Don’t raise your 
head an inch, unless you think an ounce o’ rebel lead 
would improve it.” 

Shorty speedily had all the hangers-on in the rear 
at work making coffee, and as he saw the fires blaz- 
ing around the black kettles, he moved off behind a 
clump of bushes, put his hand into his muddy, soaked 
clothes, and pulled out the damp clump which was 
Maria’s letter, opened it as tenderly and reverently 
as he could command his stubborn fingers, spread 
the blurred sheets out on his knee, and with much 
difficulty read: 

“My Dear William : The last letter I got from you 
was writ when youde got orders to march the next 
morning, and open the grate campane. I can not 
tell you how anxious Ive bin ever since for news of 
you and Si. Ive prayed for you morning and night, 
and many times during the day Ive stopt in the 
middle of my work, to ask God to take care of you. 
Ive never felt such a deep, almost sickening anxiety 
in the war as now. Perhaps it was because I was 
young and giddy, and did not realize what the war 
meant. But Ive thought over all that you and Si 


28 


SI KLEGG. 


have bin through, and when I think of you about to 
go through the same things again, my heart sinks 
with fear. Will God be as good to you as He has 
bin? 0, will He? That’s what I ask myself every 
hour in the day. I think over things that I said and 
done when you was here, and blame myself for not 
treatin’ you half well enough, and if I should never 
see you again, it wood be treatin’ me right, and Ide 
never forgive myself as long as I lived. Ime talking 
to you now as I never thought Ide talk to you in the 
world, but this is a very solum moment, when one 
should talk sincerely, as in the presence of Eternity. 
Don’t remember any pernicketty things about me, 
but believe that you haint got a truer friend in all 
the world than I am and ever will be. Do take care 
of your self for my sake, if not your own, and write 
me when ever you can get a chance. 

Your true friend, MARIA KLEGG. 

Shorty could hardly believe his eyes, or hold his 
heart down, as he slowly spelled out the blurred let- 
ters, and still slower comprehended their meaning. 
He sat for a moment looking out over the scarred 
hills, without seeing breastwork or fort, or bastion 
or abatis. He' was trying to understand the letter. 

“Take care of myself for her sake,” he murmured ; 
“what kin she mean?” 

“The coffee’s biling, now, Corporal,” said little 
Pete. “I expect we’d better hurry up with it. The 
boys are awful anxious for it.” 

“That’s so,” said Shorty, rousing himself, and 
taking a kettle in each hand. “Be keerful, Pete and 
Sandy, and scrouch down as low as you kin, when 
we raise the bank. Come on, now.” 


CHAPTER II. 


PETE AND SANDY “MONKEY” WITH A PERCUSSION 
SHELL. 

R EANIMATED by the hot, strong coffee, the 
regiment resumed its work of watching the 
opposite intrenchments with renewed zeal, 
and the rebels could not so much as protrude a gun- 
barrel through the slit between the top of the works 
and the head-log without getting several shots from 
the eager watchers in our lines. 

The rebels were repressed, but still vigilant, as 
Pete Skidmore found out to his alarm. In spite of 
Shorty’s anxious cautionings Pete would persist in 
rising up. to “peek” over the head-log, and expose 
himself in other ways. Unwittingly he got his head 
considerably above the log, and discovered this fact 
when he was knocked back into the ditch, making a 
great splash as he fell. The blood streamed from 
his forehead. Shorty, with an exclamation of dis- 
may, crawled toward him, but before he could reach 
him, Pete, to his great relief, raised up a little, and 
passed his hand wonderingly along the red track of 
the bullet through his hair. Seeing the nature of the 
injury, the concern of the rest of the company found 
relief in a laugh at Pete’s dazed look. 

“Scratched your thinkery, did it?” growled Shorty. 
( 29 ) 


30 


SI KLEGG. 


“Reached for the nest where you hatch your spellin’ 
lessons and do your sums? If your head ’d bin half- 
an-inch higher your name’d bin Mud. Mebbe you’ll 
mind what I say after this, you restless, squirmin’ 
little maggot.” 

“Crawl back to the rear, Skidmore,” said Capt. 
McGillicuddy, “and let the Surgeon look to your 
hurt.” 

“Please, can’t I stay, Captain?” pleaded Pete. “It 
ain’t hurtin’ me much now, and the blood’s stopped 
runnin’.” 

“No; skip out, Pete,” commanded Shorty. “I’m 
worried to death all the time you’re here, an’ I can’t 
tend to my own business properly from thinkin’ 
about you. I lost one good fair shot at a feller’s 
head, just because you distracted me by pokin’ your 
head above the log. My not downin’ that feller may 
cost some of us our lives, for I’m sure he’s the one 
that’s bin doin’ some mighty sharp work.” 

“Please let me stay,” begged Pete. “I can’t see 
nothin’ back there.” 

“Say,” called out a voice from the other side, 
“who’d I fetch that time? Did I kill a Jigadier- 
Brindle?” 

“Naah,” Shorty yelled back. “You didn’t kill 
nobody. You only creased a little boy.” 

“Yo’uns ’s lyin’ straight,” returned the voice from 
the rebel lines. “Yo’uns ’s makin’ too much pow- 
wow fur that. I must’ve at least killed a Runnel. I 
ain’t wastin’ no lead creasin’ boys. I’m layin’ for 
big game, I am.” 

“You are, you clay-eatin’ disciple o’ Jeff Davis,” 
Si yelled back. “Well, you hain’t hit nobody to hurt 


PETE AND SANDY MONKEY WITH A SHELL. 31 


this whole mornin’ — not even a brevet Corporal. 
You’re too afeared o’ showin’ your plaguey carkiss, 
to git a good aim.” 

“That’s it, go on tauntin’ him, Si,” whispered 
Shorty, who had an idea. “Devil him into showin’ 
a little o’ hisself. Pete, git your gun loaded, an’ lay 
for him. He’s right there by that splintered stub 
on the head-log. See it? Draw down fine on the 
crack below it. Keep cool, now, and don’t shoot till 
you git a fine sight. Le’me look along your sights. 
There, a little more to the left. Hold her steady 
there, an’ wait. Go ahead, Si.” 

“What’s the matter with you fellers?” Si called 
out. “You can’t shoot alongside of us any day in 
the week. Did the lickin’s we give you back at Dal- 
ton and Resaca shake your nerves? I’ll bet I kin 
stick my hat up an’ you can’t hit it. We must’ve 
downed a dozen of you fellers today, an’ all that 
you’ve done* is to scratch one of us, an’ he a little 
boy. Fine set o’ shots you are.” 

“What’s that you say? What’s that you say?” 
roared the rebel. “I kin outshoot any man yo’uns ’ve 
got over thar. Yo’uns dassent show a button over 
yer head-log, but I’ll knock hit off. I’ll knock off 
the pint o’ your ramrod four times outen five if 
yo’uns ’ll stick hit up.” 

“I’ll bet you three days’ rations o’ coffee you can’t 
hit the butt of a musket stuck up sideways,” said Si, 
in a tantalizing tone. “An’ I’ll give you three tries 
at it.” 

“I’ll take you. I’ll bet you a canteen o’ applejack 
agin your coffee. Stick up yer gun.” 

“All of you lay low — lay mighty close,” warned 


32 


SI KLEGG. 


Shorty, in a stage-whisper. “Now, Pete, look sharp. 
When you git a dead bead on that streak o’ light just 
under the stub, aim a full inch under the bottom o’ 
the log. Wait just a thought after you see that 
streak o’ light darkened, an’ then pull the trigger. 
You’ll ketch him somewhere about the head, and 
settle him. Stick up your gun, Si.” 

“Hand me that rebel gun there,” whispered Si. 
“Ain’t goin’ to run no risk o’ havin’ my own spiled.” 

He raised the gun-butt, holding it loosely, so that 
he wouldn’t be hurt if it was knocked out of his hand. 

Almost instantly a shot came from the rebel side, 
and grazed the iron band on the musket-butt. Almost 
simultaneously Pete fired, and his shot was echoed 
by a screech from the rebel side. 

“No fair! Foul! Foul! Dirty Yankee trick, you 
blue-bellied scoundrels !” yelled the rebels, opening a 
venomous fusilade on the works, to which Co. Q 
responded with interest. 

“Say, I s’pose I’ll have to pay the bet, though you 
didn’t actually win,” Si called over, after the firing 
had died down. “You didn’t hit the butt fair, only 
scraped it, but as I said hit, I’ll stand by it. I’ll 
throw the coffee over the works.” 

“And then shoot the man that tries to git hit,” 
yelled the rebels back. “You blasted varmits, jest 
show yer heads above yer banks, and we’uns ’ll blow 
’em off.” 

“Thankee for the invite,” said Si. “After you’s 
manners. Stick up your own heads first.” 

“Pete, you ketched him somewhere about the jaw,” 
Shorty congratulated that palpitating youth, “an’ 


PETE AND SANDY MONKEY WITH A SHELL. 33 

got full pay for that scratch on your head. You done 
yourself proud.” 

The firing became merely an occasional shot, and 
many of the men crawled out of the ditch, and threw 
themselves down on the ground behind for a rest of 
their tense nerves. 

Si and Shorty remained on watch, and also Pete 
Skidmore, who was so inflated with his recent 
achievement that he wanted to duplicate it. 

“Hist,” said he, after a period of breathless wait- 
ing, “there’s a hat bobbin’ up.” 

Si’s eyes had already caught sight of it. 

“You hit it,” said Pete gleefully, as Si’s rifle 
cracked. “I saw the pieces fly. But there it comes 
up again.” 

Shorty fired this time. 

“You’ve hit it, too,” cried Pete, “on the side, and 
tore a hole out.” 

“I think Jeff Davis has lost one vote in the con- 
vention for sure,” said Shorty grimly, as he reloaded 
“An’ there’s one less clay-eatin’ snipe to bother us 
in future. I got a center-shot on him.” 

“But there it comes up again,” said Pete. “Let 
me shoot.” 

“Bang away, youngster,” said Shorty. “That 
feller’ll be as full o’ holes as a skimmer presently.” 

“Why, there it comes up agin,” gasped Pete, as he 
peered eagerly through the smoke to note the effects 
of his shot. “I hit it, and it went down, and then 
bobbed up agin.” 

The whole crowd was now squinting through 
under the log at the baffling hat. 

“I begin to smell a rat,” said Si, who now remem- 


2 


34 


SI KLEGG. 


bered that they had not been receiving any return 
shots for some time. He put his hat on the muzzle 
of his gun and slowly raised it above the head-log. 
Shorty did the same. 

Not a single shot, though the whole crowns were 
exposed, giving the fairest kind of marks. 

Si then raised himself up without drawing fire, 
and then sprang on top of the bank. 

“Cap,” he yelled, after a quick look, “they’ve got 
a sneak on us. They’re all gone.” 

The regiment rose as one man, leaped the works, 
rushed across to the rebel intrenchments and over 
them. Only a few dead men were found of their 
swarm of enemies. In front of Si’s position was a 
cunning contrivance. A twig of hickory thrust in 
the ground bore an old wool hat. To the twig a dog 
was attached by a string so cleverly arranged that 
when the dog pulled to get free he would raise the 
hat above the head-log. 

“Say, Yanks, what d’ yo-uns think o’ that ’ere fur 
a Yankee trick?” yelled a voice from a safe covert 
behind an oak on a knoll at a little distance. “Wasn’t 
that a slick one? Why didn’t yo’uns keep on pluggin’ 
away at that old hat the rest o’ the day ? I hope you 
didn’t hurt the dorg. He’s a mean, wuthless yaller 
purp, but he’s got more principle an’ better blood 
an’s more of a man than any o’ yo’uns. So long. 
We’ll see yo’uns down at Allatoony.” 

The speaker fired his gun as a parting salute, and 
disappeared in the brush. 

Disappointed in not having been able to force his 
enemy into decisive battle along the Etowah River, 
Gen. Sherman halted his army for a few days before 


PETE AND SANDY MONKEY WITH A SHELL. 35 


launching it against the rugged steeps and formid- 
able intrenchments of the Allatoona Mountains. The 
200th Ind. was pushed forward until it came within 
uncomfortable shelling distance of a rebel fort, and 
there threw up a line of intrenchments, and waited 
developments. The shelling was at first exciting, but 
in a little while everybody got used to it, and settled 
down to his usual vocations without paying particu- 
lar attention to the firing, except when* some spe- 
cially well-aimed shell made a flurry. 

After they had washed out of their clothes the clay 
which had accumulated while they were wallowing 
in the flooded rifle pits, and doing some rude mend- 
ing, Si’s and Shorty’s next thoughts were as to writ- 
ing responses to the letters they had received. Si 
had reached the point where he announced his pur- 
pose of wanting to write to his “girl,” with open 
frankness, for the boy who did not have a “girl” to 
write to was an exception, and considered as not in 
the swim at all. But Maria was entirely too sacred 
a subject for Shorty to expose to the garish light of 
day and the comments of the rude members of Co. 
Q. So closely had he kept his dear secret that he 
had not even intimated to Si that he had received a 
letter from his sister, much less any hint of the new 
happiness that glowed in his heart and softened his 
words and ways to all around him. Si occasionally 
marveled inwardly at the exceptional consideration 
and regard which Shorty displayed toward him and 
Pete, and for the want of anything better attributed 
it to the effect upon his brain of the blow he had 
received at Chickamauga. 

Shorty was more eager than ever to write to 


36 


SI KLEGG. 


Maria, and more than ever at a loss what to say to 
her. He wanted to say everything, and yet he feared 
to say anything, lest he might wreck the delicate 
fabric of his happiness. 

Upon examining his writing materials he found 
them in a deplorable condition. The rain had 
reduced his paper and envelopes to limp pulp, which 
no drying could cure. Inquiry among the other boys 
revealed that all theirs was in the same condition, 
and the sutler’s wagon was miles away, no one 
knew where. But, as usual, obstacles only made 
Shorty more determined, and he finally succeeded in 
getting a couple of blank requisitions from the 
Quartermaster — the only decent paper that he could 
find. With these, a piece of board to serve as a desk, 
his gold pen and wooden inkstand, he repaired to the 
shelter of a large sycamore on the bank of Pump- 
kin Vine Creek, seated himself comfortably, and 
drew out Maria’s letter and read it for the hun- 
dredth time. He began his laborious reply, but had 
only finished writing: 

“In Camp at Punkin Vine Creek, May the 31. 

“Mi Deer” 

He paused with a flush of guilt. Would he dare 
the presumption of writing “Maria,” without putting 
the “Miss” before it? How he longed to ask some 
one in whom he had confidence — Capt. McGillicuddy 
or Lieut. Bowersox, for example, what to do? But 
he would not lay bare his secret even to those 
cherished advisers. But, then, she had written him, 
“Mi deer Daniel,” and there would be something 
ineffably sweet in addressing her the same way. He 
did it with fingers so nervous that his writing was 


PETE AND SANDY MONKEY WITH A SHELL. 37 


so unsatisfactory that the sheet was spoiled. Yet 
he tore off the strip containing the words, carefully 
folded it, and placed it among his other treasures. 

He re-wrote the opening lines more carefully, and 
gazed at them with satisfaction. Little Pete came 
running up with a six-pound unexploded shell in his 
hands. 

“0, Corporal,” he said, “I’ve bin lookin’ all around 
for you. Here’s a shot that just come over from a 
new battery the rebs have opened. Me and Sandy 
have been disputin’ about it. He says it’s a bum- 
shell. I say it’s only a big iron minie bullet, same 
kind of a thing as we shoot, only made of iron, and 
intended to bust trees and breast works.” 

“That’s a shell — a percussion shell, from a rifled 
gun,” answered Shorty, abstractedly, looking up 
from his sheet. “The same as some of our guns 
shoot. Probably come from one o’ our guns they’ve 
captured. Be mighty careful of it. Better go and 
throw it in the crick.” 

He resumed his writing: 

“I taik mi pen in hand to inform you that we air 
down in the Altoony Mountains. This is a mighty 
pleasant country, or would be if there was no rebels, 
no forts, no abattee, no confounded mule trains, 
decent rodes, and it diddent rane 10 days every weke. 
Weve had sum purty stiff fitin, an have licked the 
rebs every time, but havn’t ketched ’em good an’ 
hard as we hoap to. But we’ll bring ’em up with a 
round turn sune, an brake ole Johnson’s blamed 
secesh nek.” 

Pete broke in again: 

“You say this is a shell. Where’s there any 


38 


SI KLEGG. 


touch-hole to make it go off? Me and Sandy’s bin 
lookin’ it all over, and we can’t find none, same as 
the other bum-shells have. If it’s a bum-shell why 
didn’t it bust? And see how heavy it is. It must be 
solid.” 

“It is a shell, I tell you,” said Shorty, looking up 
again. “A percussion shell. There’s a cap on the 
end that makes it go off. It didn’t strike right, and 
so didn’t bust. Be mighty careful of it, or you may 
knock it off and blow you all to flinders. Throw it 
in the crick.” 

Shorty resumed his writing. 

“I was glad to git yore deer letter. It made me 
happier than I kin tell you, to feel that you are 
really my friend, and wil alwais be so. Ide rather 
have yore friendship than all the worlds beside, for 
I think more of you than all the rest of the world 
put together. I’ve thot of yore letter every minnit 
when I’ve bin awake, and no mater what else was 
happenin’. It made me willin’ to do anything an 
stand anything for your sake. Oh, sich a grand, 
bewtiful girl as you are” 

Pete came back : 

“You say that there’s a cap on this bum-shell? I 
can’t see nothin’ that looks like a cap, and me and 
Sandy have looked it all over.” 

“There’s the cap,” said Shorty, pointing out the 
plunger in the point. “When that strikes anything 
hard it busts a cap in the inside, an’ busts the shell. 
Now, I tell you again to handle it mighty careful 
an’ go and throw it in the crick after you’re through 
looking at it.” 

He resumed : 


PETE AND SANDY MONKEY WITH A SHELL. 39 


“Ide go through fire and water, an to the ends of 
the earth. You are worth it. You are worth all that 
the best man alive kin” 

A shell burst near wjth such a terrific crash that 
Shorty sprang to his feet, and put the trunk of the 
tree between him and the rebel line. The whole 
regiment rushed to arms. Shorty glanced around, 
and saw Pete and Sandy standing aghast, and sur- 
veying the ruins of a stump, and limbs falling from 
the trees. 

“Here, you imps o’ Satan,” yelled Shorty, “you’ve 
gone an’ busted that shell, have you? Either o’ you 
hurt?” 

“Why,” whimpered Pete, “me and Sandy kep’ on 
argyin’ about that shell. Sandy thought it’d go off, 
and I didn’t. We finallly laid it on that stump, and 
began to throw rocks at it to see if we could hit the 
cap. I didn’t think Sandy could hit it, — he throws 
rocks just like a girl, you know, — and he was dead 
sure I couldn’t hit it. I didn’t think it would go off, 
anyway. ’Deed I didn’t. I’m awful sorry.” 

“If I’m ever father to another boy” — Shorty 
began to commune with himself, as he sat down and 
resumed his letter. 


CHAPTER III. 


SI AND HIS BOYS TAKE PART IN A “DEMONSTRATION,” 
AND WANDER INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 

G EN. SHERMAN politely declined to smash up 
his army against the heavy forts and in- 
trenchments with which Joe Johnston had 
hospitably covered the front of the Allatoona Moun- 
tains, to entertain the “Yankees” and prevent any 
farther advance along the railroad. 

It is true that Gen. Sherman did not immediately 
inform Joe Johnston that he had no intention of 
doing as Johnston wanted him. This want of frank- 
ness and sincerity as to intentions is a common fault 
with commanders, and is the source of much grief 
to old “Aunties” who think everything about war 
“real horrid.” 

Rather, Gen. Sherman made every effort to im- 
press Joe Johnston with the belief that the immense 
amount of labor expended upon embankments and 
ditches — in hauling up guns and placing them, in 
covering his front with a thorny hedge of fallen 
trees, had not been wasted, but would do splendid 
service in repelling the assaults of the “swarming 
Yankee hordes.” Every day Sherman pushed for- 
ward heavy threatening lines, toward the bristling 
fortifications of the enemy, with much angry cannon- 
( 40 ) 


INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 


41 


ade, much spiteful rage of musketry, much show of 
massing and marching men, many vicious little 
squabbles between Yankee skirmishers, and rebel 
outposts. 

“The Wahoo Brigade,” to which the 200th Ind. 
belonged, had a prominent share in these “demon- 
strations,” with which Sherman’s men became so 
familiar in the course of the Atlanta campaign. 

It cleared out all the rebels from the wood in which 
it was camped, and pushed its skirmishers to the 
edge of the timber, from which they kept up a noisy, 
long-range bickering with the rebel skirmishers, 
dodging around among the sparse growth of pine 
and cedar, and the rocks on the long slope which led 
up to the crest of the hill. There all the timber had 
been cut down into abatis, and above this rose a high 
thick bank of red clay, which, to the right and left 
swelled into bastioned forts. On the higher moun- 
tains behind could be seen still heavier forts, with 
larger guns, that commanded the works in front. 

Si and Shorty, with their squad, had been with 
the rest of Co. Q on the brigade skirmish-line all 
morning, and for awhile had thrown their whole 
souls into efforts to bring down the rebels dodging 
from one shelter to another. But, as they did not 
seem to be doing execution proportionate to the 
ammunition expended, they had let their firing die 
down to desultory shots when some daring rebel 
should offer the chance for a good long-range shot. 

" With loaded rifle ready, Si leaned up against an 
oak sapling, and attentively studied the ground in 
front, and the works, with a view to the assault that 
was probable. Shorty leaned against another, and 


42 


SI KLEGG. 


thought of Maria and her letter. Occasionally he 
would admonish Pete and Sandy about being too 
reckless in exposing themselves. Harry Joslyn and 
Monty Scruggs imitated their example, while Gid 
Mackall satisfied his ever-raging hunger from his 
haversack, and Alf Russell took the opportunity to 
again view the cicatrice across his cheek, by the aid 
of his pocket looking-glass, to determine how much 
of a permanent scar it was likely to leave. 

“Orderly,” commanded Capt. McGillicuddy, “send 
back for a couple boxes of cartridges, and give them 
out. Then tell the men as soon as they get them, to 
begin shooting, and keep it up as lively as they can. 
Let them shoot at anything or nothing, but shoot 
as fast as they can. We’ve got to make a big demon- 
stration.” 

In a few minutes a most terrific uproar broke out 
along the whole line, with everybody banging away 
as fast as he could load and fire. 

The rebels revived their firing, and the fort joined 
in. The din was accentuated by batteries to the right 
and left reopening fire on the rebel forts. 

By the time the musket-barrels were getting too 
hot for handling, the bugle sounded “Forward,” and 
the skirmish-line dashed out into the opening, and 
half-way across. Immediately behind came the brig- 
ade in line-of-battle. The front rank pushed for- 
ward into the skirmish-line, and reinforced its fire 
with their fresh guns, while the rear rank, carrying 
picks, axes and shovels, fell to work constructing a 
line of rifle-pits close behind the firing-line. 

Everything was done with feverish energy, and 
in an incredibly short time logs, stones, chunks and 


INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 


43 


dirt were massed together in a rude embankment, 
high and thick enough to protect men lying behind 
from direct musket-shots from the rebels in the 
works. 

Then, while the rear rank got ready to fire, the 
front line quickly sprang back, and lay down behind 
the shelter, and a volley blazed out from those who 
had been handling picks and shovels. 

But before the front rank fell back they saw long 
lines of rebels coming from the hills to reinforce 
those in their front. 

“Did you see all those men swarming down, Cor- 
poral ?” asked Monty Scruggs, with staring eyes and 
drawn face, as they adjusted themselves behind the 
hasty intrenchment, and began throwing over what- 
ever they could find to strengthen it. “The whole 
Southern Confederacy seems out for noon over 
there.” 

“Yes,” answered Si, and he and Shorty brought 
up a log from the rear and laid it on the top of the 
bank. “Shorty, as near as I can guess, there must 
be a full division out there. Possibly two.” 

“It’s two divisions, more likely,” answered Shorty, 
picking up an ax to drive some stakes to hold the 
log in place. “But the more the better. When 
they’re there they ain’t somewhere else, and we want 
’em out there just now. Gid, you and Alf take these 
axes and run back there to them young oaks and cut 
down two braces to put behind this log. Them bat- 
tery fellers in the fort are goin’ to see this log, and 
try to knock it off. Jump, now.” 

The boys soon came back with two stout beams, 
and they were none too quick, for the rebel artillery- 


44 


SI KLEGG. 


men, doubtless attracted by the group gathered 
around the log, fixing it, began sending shells in that 
direction. The first burst far behind the line, and 
did no damage, except to a bunch of saplings. The 
next struck a few rods in front, and sent its pieces 
screeching over the line. 

“Lay low, boys ! Lay low ! ” warned Shorty. “That 
yaller-bellied skeezicks at that left-hand gun is gittin’ 
our range. He’ll sock the next one right into us.” 

The third shell struck squarely in front of the 
log, clipped a piece out, and sent a cloud of dirt and 
stones whirling over those crouching behind. 

“Good, fair shot, Mr. Yaller-belly,” said Shorty, 
picking up a shovel, and throwing the dirt back over 
the bank. “But you can’t do that agin for the drinks. 
That’s all right, boys. That’s his best lick. He can’t 
do that agin in a hundred tries.” 

To show his confidence in his own words, and 
hearten up the startled boys, Shorty jumped over the 
works with his shovel, and began throwing the dirt 
back into the rent that pieces of the shell had made. 

The night began to fall, made still darker by the 
heavy clouds of an impending rain. 

“Are we to be waked up at daylight tomorrow 
morning to charge through that abatis, and fight 
all the men we saw?” asked Alf Russell, with a 
dreary shiver. 

“No, Alf, I think not,” answered Si consolingly. 
“It’s my private opinion publicly expressed that 
we’re just about as near them abattee as we’re goin’. 
This is another Buzzard Roost game over again. All 
make-believe. When I took them prisoners back to 
the river this morning the whole country over to the 


INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 


45 


south and west was full o' men and wagons, all 
striking off in that direction. The men had three 
days’ rations in their haversacks an’ the ration an’ 
ammunition wagons was right close along with each 
brigade. The whole army is makin’ a big left wheel, 
just as they did at Snake Crick Gap, to ketch old 
Johnston somewhere where he ain’t expectin’ us. 
We’re just givin’ him a big play to amuse him, an’ 
keep the time from hangin’ heavy on his hands, while 
the boys are gettin’ on his flank.” 

“Something o’ that kind is surely up,” corrobo- 
rated Shorty. “I’ve felt it in my bones for two or 
three days. There’s bin entirely too much noise an’ 
blow, an’ too little real hard knockin’ for anything 
serious. When I went back after cartridges I saw 
there wasn’t a soul behind us. All the wagons was 
gone but the one with the ammunition, an’ it started 
as soon as they got through issuing. I’m goin’ to 
eat something and then lay down. You kin wake 
me if I’m needed. Come over here, Pete.” 

“But, Sergeant,” queried Monty Scruggs, “mayn’t 
those fellows over there come out and literally eat 
us up? There’s enough of them for that.” 

“That’s more likely,” answered Si. “But hardly, 
either. The way we come out o’ those woods at ’em 
makes ’em believe that there’s just lots more where 
we come from, and they’re not likely to jump us until 
they’ve inquired around where our friends are. This 
will take ’em nearly all night. Their spies are prob- 
ably now working in through our lines, an’ if we’re 
here we may expect a visit from ’em about daybreak. 
But unless all signs fail we won’t be here. We’re 
the last roses of Summer in this neighborhood. 


46 


SI KLEGG. 


Everybody else is skinnin’ out for Stilesboro, Burnt 
Hickory and Dallas, an’ guess we’ll follow suit be- 
fore many hours.” 

By that time every veteran in Sherman’s army 
had become a General, so far as reading with unfail- 
ing skill the meaning of movements and signs around 
him. 

From the hill came unmistakable sounds of the 
movements of troops. They could be seen passing 
in front of fires, and there was a rumble of wheels 
of artillery. It looked as if they were massing for 
an attack, and this was strengthened by their cannon 
opening spasmodically at times, as if to herald a 
charge. 

“Shouldn’t wonder if they’re tryin’ a big game o’ 
bluff, too,” Si shrewdly remarked, as he led the boys 
back a little ways to the shelter of a rock and some 
cedars, where they built a fire, and boiled some 
coffee, to wash down the pork they had fried in the 
morning before going on the skirmish line, and their 
hardtack. Shorty was waked up to give him a cup 
of coffee, and then Si, breaking a bunch of cedar to 
serve as a pillow, spread his blanket down, laid his 
gun, cartridge-box, and haversack where he could 
put his hand on them the moment he was aroused, 
and lay down. Composed by his example, the boys, 
weary with the excitement and fatigues of the long 
day, imitated him, and all, even the restless little 
Pete Skidmore, were soon as sound asleep as if in 
their beds at home, and not a rebel within 100 miles. 
And they slept on, though a heavy rain came on, and 
spattered them with red mud from the ditch they 
had dug. 


INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 


47 


About midnight the Orderly Sergeant aroused Si. 

“Get up,” he said, “and get your boys up. Don’t 
make a particle of noise. Be still as cats. We’re 
pulling out. The pickets ’ve come in, and the rest o’ 
the brigade started. You take your squad and act as 
rear guard. Keep just in hearing of the regiment, 
and keep your eye peeled every minute.” 

It was still raining with a dash, but this helped to 
drown the noise of their movement from the eager 
watchers* on the hill in front. 

Si aroused the others, helped them roll and adjust 
their wet blankets, carefully counted them, and 
gathered them around him, and followed the rear of 
the regiment as it made its way back through the 
woods. 

On the hill beyond the fires were smoldering, but 
figures could be seen passing them, showing fhat the 
rebels were still there. 

Then followed a weary tramping through the 
blinding rain, and over roads that had been worked 
into the consistence of mortar by the men and teams 
that had gone ahead. Si had to keep within hearing 
of the regiment, and yet watch sharply for any signs 
of their being followed. For awhile he had no diffi- 
culty in keeping track of the regiment by the bad- 
ness of the trail it left, and the noise of the weary, 
sleepy men plunging into mudholes, stumbling over 
stones, and grumbling and swearing as they went. 
But some noises in the rear attracted his attention, 
and he halted his squad to investigate. 

When he started on again the regiment was out 
of hearing. He pushed ahead as rapidly as he could, 
but did not seem to be gaining on it. 


48 


SI KLEGG. 


At length the road left the muddy, low ground, 
and went up over a hard, sandy rise, and there 
forked. The dashing rain had washed out all signs 
of passers, and Si halted in dismay. Finally he 
decided that the left-hand road fork was the more 
direct route, and the regiment had probably gone on 
that, and he pushed forward with renewed speed. 

Presently they were encouraged by hearing voices 
ahead, and pushed up until these were tolerably 
plain, when they jogged along after them. 

Soon Shorty stepped up alongside of Si and whis- 
pered : 

“Si, I wonder if them’s our men. The voices don’t 
seem familiar. They don’t swear like the 200th In- 
jianny does. Listen for yourself.” 

Si’s heart went into his mouth, and he halted the 
squad in a whisper. 

They all listened with painful intentness. The 
rain had temporarily ceased, and the only sounds 
were those of the water dripping on the leaves and 
rushing through the gullies. A roaring voice flowed 
back through the darkness. 

“What is the matter with you slab-sided, splay- 
footed sand-diggers? Can’t yo’uns see nothin’, you 
mole-eyed bats? That mud-hole’s big as a Georgy 
cracker’s farm, and yit every 'moon-blind, wuthless 
hound o’ yo’uns must tumble into hit, and waller 
thar. Climb outen thar this minnit, you white-eyed 
boars, afore I come thar and lather the empty bass- 
wood heads offen yo’uns with my sword. Lord, what 
was I ever set to command sich a gang o’ addlepated 
woods swine for? Hit’s enough to drive a sensible 
man plum ravin’ crazy. Git outen thar, I say.” 


INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 


49 


‘'Shorty,” whispered Si, “them’s rebels. Nobody 
in our brigade’s got sich a tongue as that.” 

“You’re mighty right, Si. Don’t you know that 
voice? That’s Gilmartin’s Tennessee regiment. Don’t 
you remember we heard him bellerin’ just that way 
at Stone River ; agin at Lame Deer Crick, an’ then at 
Duck River? We’ve got inside the rebel lines, an’ 
run up agin our old acquaintances.” 

“You’re right, Shorty. We must git out, an’ that 
mighty quick. How?” 

“Shan’t we shoot into ’em?” asked the nervous 
little Pete, and the locks of his and Sandy’s guns 
clicked. “I’m sure I kin hit that feller that’s yelling.” 

“Pete,” whispered Shorty, with deep earnestness, 
“if you ever kept that restless little tongue o’ yours 
still you must do it now. The rebels is probably all 
around us. Don’t you cheep agin, on your life. 
You’re nigher bein’ lost than you ever was before 
in all your born days. Open your ears wide, an’ put 
a stickin’-plaster on your mouth.” 

They noticed that they had entered a narrow lane, 
with high fences on either side. 

“The only thing to do is to skip back the way we 
come,” whispered Si. “’Bout face!” 

They had taken but a step or two, when a savage 
voice called out from *the rear with startling near- 
ness. 

“Hold on, thar, you Lincolnite pups; whar air 
yo’uns gwine? Try in’ to sneak off to the Yankees, 
air yo’uns? I’ve bin expectin’ that trick o’ you 
cowardly conscripts all night, and’ve stayed back 
behind to watch yo’uns. Go on with the rijimint, or 


50 


SI KLEGG. 


I’ll blow yo’uns offen the face o’ the airth. Go on, 
I say.” 

“We’d better go on,” whispered Si. “There’s no 
chance to make a break here. Mebbe there will be 
further ahead. ’Bout face — Forward — March!” 

The rain resumed with violence. Si plodded on 
at the head of his squad, his brain working with 40 
horse-power as to ways of escape. He was trying 
to think how many men there were behind him, and 
what chance there would be in a struggle with them. 
The brief sound of their footsteps as they came up 
the hill, before the rain drowned out all sounds but 
his own, made him think that there were several 
times as many as he had — probably a company under 
the command of a Captain, acting as rear-guard. 
Not wishing to get any nearer the regiment in front, 
he did not hasten his footsteps, and presently the 
voice from the rear sounded alongside of him, as the 
owner had forged ahead. The outlines of the form 
accompanying it, as near as Si could make out in the 
darkness and blinding rain, were bulky, and the 
voice sounded like that of a large, powerful man. 

“Whar’s the rijimint?” inquired the voice. 

“Right thar ahead, only a few steps,” answered 
Si, imitating as well as he could the Southern dialect, 
“You kin hear ’em.” 

“Yes, there’s ole Gilmartin’s red rag gwine like a 
fullin’ mill,” returned the voice. “He’s drunk, as 
usual, when thar’s any thing to be done. The minnit 
he gits his orders he begins to fill up his keg. Hadn’t 
bin for me he’d a’ run us plum into the Yankees back 
thar, and if I hadn’t taken the rare-gyard he’d not 
had half the rijimint in the mornin’. These blasted 


INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 


51 


conscripts only lookin’ for sich a chance as this to 
skeet out. Astonished you, Lincolnite white niggers 
find me in your rear, didn’t hit? Blocked your little 
game jest when yo’uns thought yo’uns was playin’ 
hit to win, didn’t hit? But I’d had my eye on yo’uns 
ever since we started. I’ve alluz had my eye on you, 
Baz Peters, you big' hog thief, and you (to Shorty), 
Brice Wolf, you long-legged crocodile, ever sence I 
conscripted you both into the rijimint over thar by 
Tazewell,, when yo’uns was tryin’ to git to the Lin- 
colnites.” 

“Crocodile am I?” muttered Shorty to himself. 
“Somebody’s entirely too free with his tongue. He’ll 
be more respectful before the night’s over.” 

“Lucky yo’uns wasn’t put into my company,” con- 
tinued the voice. 

“His company,” thought Si; “he’s a Captain, and 
has got a company with him. But we’ll find some 
way to jump him.” 

“Ef yo’uns had,” said the voice, “I’d either killed 
yo’uns or had you killed long ago. But ole Stillman’s 
too easy with you. He’s got a streak o’ Lincoln in his 
own gizzard. Astonished yo’uns that I knowed you 
in the dark. But I’ve got the best eyes for seeing 
in the dark in the rijimint, and I’d know that hump 
on your back, Baz Peters, that you made totin’ other 
folks’ hogs, and them ganglin’ legs and splay feet o’ 
your’n, Brice Wolf, in a darker night than this. Why 
don’t you say something? Why don’t yo’uns talk?” 

“Hain’t got nothin’ to say,” answered Si. 

“Haint, eh? Well, you kin talk fast enough, and 
loud enough, when you’re argyin’ politics. Jest as 
well for yo’uns to say nothin’. Better do a heap o’ 


52 


SI KLEGG. 


thinkin’ — thinkin’ on your latter end. Better be 
sayin’ your prayers. You ain’t long fur this airth, 
yo’uns ain’t. I’ll either have yo’uns shot for example 
termorrer morning, or yo’uns ’ll be put whar your 
friends the Yanks ’ll salt yo’uns. Yo’uns ’ll be made 
to save better men.” 

They came to where a torrent, a yard wide or 
more, was tearing across the road, and halted a little 
before entering it. A feeble flash of lightning re- 
vealed that they were nearly out of the lane, with 
dense woods to the right and left. Shorty bumped up 
against Si. 

“I’m goin’ to jump him as soon’s we’re acrost,” Si 
hastily whispered to Shorty, “an’ make a break for 
the right. You take the next man behind.” 

“Say, thar, what’re yo’uns stopping for?” shouted 
the Captain, who had made his way across a little 
above. “Come on, you hounds. Job ’em with your 
bayonets, you men behind thar.” 

Si put the muzzle of his gun down to steady him- 
self, and waded across, helping Sandy Baker to do 
the same. Shorty helped Pete, and by touching them, 
Si ascertained that all his squad was over. 

“Look sharp,” he whispered to them. “Me an’ 
Shorty’s goin’ to jump the Captain an’ the others. 
You boys make a break for the woods an’ try to git 
back to the regiment. Don’t mind us.” 

Si, running his left arm through the sling of his 
gun, edged imperceptibly up toward the Captain, 
who continued his volley of general abuse for not 
crossing faster. 

Shorty closed up to the next man. Nearly all the 
other rebels were still on the other side of the torrent, 


INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 


53 


and crossing gingerly, one at a time. At the moment 
the Captain’s attention was directed upon hurrying 
these over, Si, cumbered as he was with his wet 
equipments, sprang on him like a panther, caught 
him firmly by the throat, and bore him to the ground. 
There was a sharp, fierce wrestle, for the Captain, 
though taken by surprise, was a powerful man, and 
made a stubborn resistaqce, until his lack of breath 
weakened him. 

Instead of running, as directed, the other boys 
circled around Si and punched the body of his an- 
tagonist with the muzzles of their gun-barrels, when- 
ever they could get a chance. It was all so swift and 
silent that the men on the other side of the water 
had no idea of what was going on. 

“Hold on, Baz, don’t kill me,” gasped the Captain ; 
“’Nuff! I’ll let you go.” 

“You’ll go along with me, you rebel hound,” said 
Si fiercely, still clinging to his throat. “Git up an’ 
come along with me. But don’t you squeak a word, 
or I’ll blow your head off.” 

He helped the man rise, and then walked him off to 
the right into the woods. 

“Hold on, Yank; you’ve made a mistake,” said the 
man whom Shorty leaped upon. They went to the 
ground together, but as he made no struggle, Shorty 
released his clutch a little and the man whispered : 

“Let me up, Yank. I’m with you. I’m your friend. 
I’m Baz Peters, an’ thar’s Brice Wolf, an’ five or six 
others. Le’ me up quick, an’ we’uns ’ll help yo’uns.” 

Something convinced Shorty that the man was tell- 
ing the truth. He let him up, and instantly there 


54 


SI KLEGG. 


was a group around him, who began knocking down 
those who were crossing. 

“Come, skin out! Skin out!” said in a loud whisper 
the man whom Shorty had attacked. “Go right that 
a- way. Bring Lije along, Brice and Hank.” 

They all rushed into the woods in the direction Si 
had taken, and just as the first glimmer of day was 
breaking, Shorty, who had gone on a little in ad- 
vance, to reassure Si, came up to him standing under 
a tree with his prisoner. 

“We‘re all here, Si,” said Shorty, “an’ve brung 
some East Tennesseeans with us.” 

“Right over that-a-way is the Yankees,” said Baz 
Peters, who had a mountaineer’s instinct for courses. 
“But thar’s no use of takin’ these carkisses along — 
indicating the Captain and First Lieutenant, who 
was also a prisoner. Wash Stembell, and Lije 
Willoughby, yore evil course is run. You’ve hung 
and persecuted all the Union people you ever will, 
yo’uns ’d better make your peace with yo’ Maker, 
right now, for we hain’t no time to waste; we’uns 
air gwine to kill yo’ and git shet o’ yo’uns for good 
an’ all.” 

“Indeed you’re not,” said Si, stepping between 
them. “Them men’s prisoners, an’ you mustn’t tetch 
’em.” 

“Why not?” asked the Tennesseean with surprise. 
“They’ve bin killin’ Union men ever sence the war 
begun, an’ now their time’s come. Let’s settle ’em 
now an’ have hit over with, an’ then we won’t be 
pestered no more with they’uns. We know they’ve 
killed our own kin.” 

“Well, that’s a matter that must be discussed after 


INSIDE THE REBEL LINES. 


55 


we git to camp,” said Si firmly. “You shan’t do no 
murderin’ here. Forward, march! Let’s git inside 
our lines as quick as possible.” 

When full daylight came, Si found that he had, 
beside his own squad and the two prisoners, 10 East 
Tennesseeans, who had taken the opportunity to get 
away. 

“How in the world did you come to be there, and 
how’d you know we wuz Yanks?” Si asked Basil 
Peters, as they walked along. 

“Well, you see, we wuz out to git away, an’ Wash 
Stembell somehow got onto we’uns plan. But he 
went by we’uns in the rain, an’ then we’uns fell in 
with him, without him knowin’ hit. When he come 
onto yo’uns, he thought yo’uns wuz we’uns, an’ 
we’uns didn’t know who yo’uns wuz, an’ couldn’t 
make out for quite awhile, until that flash o’ light- 
nin’ showed yo’uns blue cloze, an’ even then we’uns 
wasn’t quite sho’, until I sneaked up an’ pulled a 
chunk o’ Yankee bread outen yo’uns’s haversack. 
Then I got the boys together tow’ds the front, ready 
for what mout happen. I wuz jest gittin’ ready 
to speak to yo’uns when yo’uns jumped Wash 
Stembell.” 

“I think I understand,” said Si. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS EXECUTE VENGEANCE ON 
THEIR PERSECUTORS — ADVANCING THE LINE OF 
WORKS. 

T HAT air yo’uns gwine ter do with them 
yy air skunks arter we’uns git ’em back ter 
camp?” asked Basil Peters of Si, point- 
ing with his thumb over his shoulder to Capt. Wash- 
ington Stembell and Lieut. Elijah Willoughby, C. S. 
A., as the squad came out into the plain road about 
sunrise, and saw the Union troops in the distance. 

“0,” answered Si, indifferently, “I s’pose they’ll 
be sent to the rear with the other prisoners, an’ then 
sent to Camp Morton, at Injianapolis, or Camp 
Chase, at Columbus, or Camp Douglas, at Chicago, 
or Alton, or some o’ them places. We’ve got mints 
an’ rafts o’ them everywhere in the North.” 

“What!” said Peters, trembling with rage, “send 
them black-hearted, murderin’ villains back whar 
they’uns ’ll hev good houses ter sleep in, plenty o’ 
Yankee grub ter eat, an’ nothin’ ter do but lay ’round 
an’ git fat, an’ plan more devilment agin we’uns an’ 
bime-by some o’ they’uns’ friends up North’ll fix hit 
ter git they’uns out, an’ back they’uns ’ll come, ter 
be wusser’n ever. I’ve done heered tell all about 
them prisoners. They don’t hold ’em as want ter git 
( 56 ) 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS' VENGEANCE. 


57 


back no more’n a corn-crib ’ll hold feathers. Recolleck 
John Morgan, that yo’uns had sich a time a-gittin’, 
an’ then let git away, ter harry we’uns agin’. Why, 
Mister, them scoundrels ’ve done killed more’n a 
dozen Union men, ter my own knowledge. Why, 
Mister, Wash Stembell and Lije Willoughby done 
hung my own cousin, Ralph Peters, afore my own 
eyes. They’uns burnt Brice Wolf’s daddy’s barn 
a-huntin’ fur him, an’ tied his old daddy, who’s a 
cripple with the roomaticks, up by the thumbs, ter 
make him tell whar Brice wuz, an Lije Willoughby 
done slapped his pore ole mother alongside o’ the 
head with his sword, bekase she wuz cryin’, an’ 
beggin’ for her husband’s life. Tell me, Mister, 
yo’uns ain’t gwine ter do nothin’ more ter they’uns 
than ter pen ’em up an fatten they’uns till they git 
ready ter run away?” 

“Don’t quite seem the square deal,” said Shorty 
sympathetically. “Men that’d do that to any o’ my 
kin I’d kill, if I was hung for it the next minute.” 

“No doubt they ought to be punished,” said Si 
determinedly. “But that ain’t none o’ our business. 
Our duty ’s to take ’em back and turn ’em over to 
the provost-guard. Then you kin prefer charges agin 
’em, an’ have ’em tried regular.” 

“Try they’uns,” said Basil Peters, with deep scorn. 
“As much sense in tryin’ a rattlesnake, or a cata- 
mount. They’uns don’t desarve no trial, no more’n 
a hungry wolf. They’uns hain’t bin givin’ no trial 
ter folks who only wanted ter live at home hones’ 
an’ peaceable, under the Gov’ment o’ their fathers. 
They’uns hung ’em up like sheep-killin’ dogs.” 

While this conversation was going on Basil Peters 


58 


SI KLEGG. 


and Brice Wolf were marching a little in advance, 
with Si and Shorty, while the two prisoners were 
under the guard of the vigilant .Tennesseeans a little 
in the rear. 

Si and Shorty occupied themselves m trying to dis- 
tinguish the divisions and corps out in front, so as 
to make their way to their own certainly and quickly. 

They passed up over a hog-back, and halted the 
squad there, while Si and Shorty went forward a 
little ways to another rise, from which they thought 
they could see better. They were alarmed by a sud- 
den outburst of firing from the squad, and ran back 
to the hog-back to see what it meant. 

They found their own boys standing with their 
guns at a ready, while those of the Tennesseeans 
were still smoking, and out to the left a little ways 
lay Capt. Washington Stembell and Lieut. Elijah 
Willoughby on the wet grass, dying. 

“What does this mean?” Si asked angrily of Basil 
Peters, who was coolly wiping off his gun. 

“Mister, them pizen scoundrels made er break, an’ 
tried ter git away, an’ we had ter shoot ’em ter stop 
’em,” answered Peters, looking squarely in Si’s angry 
eyes. “Yo’ see, Mister, they’uns had got ’bout 10 
rods afore we fetched ’em. Next jump they’uns’d 
bin in that timber thar, an’ got clean off. I wuzzent 
lookin’ at the time, an’ the other boys fired fust, but 
they’uns wuz kind o’ flustrated, an’ didn’t take good 
aim. I whirled around an’ drawed a bead on Wash 
Stembell jist as he wuz makin’ the last jump fur the 
timber, an’ fetched him. Brice brung down ’Lije 
Willoughby at the same time.” 

“Yaas, Mister,” drawled Brice Wolf, lazily and 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS’ VENGEANCE. 


59 


softly, as he pushed back his long hair and con- 
fronted Si’s searching look with steadfast calmness, 
“hit wuz mouty lucky that we got they’uns jist as 



we uns did. The next skip they’uns’d a-bin in that 
thar tall timber, whar we’d never found ’em again.” 

Sorely perplexed, and exceedingly irritated, Si 
looked from one to the other, only to meet in their 
eyes the calm expression of plain truth. 


60 


SI KLEGG. 


“I wonder if they're akchelly killed?" Si asked, 
with a gleam of hope, and turning to look at the men. 

“Mister, you kin jist bet your last dollar they’uns 
air dead — mouty dead — too dead to skin," answered 
Peters in his soft, lazy drawl. “I kotched Wash 
Stembell jist above the butt o' his right ear. He quit 
right then an’ thar." 

“An' I got ’Lije Willoughby jist behind his eye," 
drawled Brice Wolf. “He never knowed what hurt 
him, the hound." 

Si went over and examined the bodies, and found 
it just as they had said. Both had planted their 
bullets precisely where they had aimed. 

He examined their pockets, and took out some 
trinkets and papers, and a couple of old-fashioned 
bull's-eye silver watches. 

“That’s ole Jeb Stallins’s watch," said Peters, 
when Si came back with them in his hand, “that 
Wash Stembell done tuck away when he was a-hunt- 
in’ fur young Jeb to conscript him. Hit done broke 
ole Jeb’s heart ter lose hit. He thought a’ most as 
much of hit as he done of his son." 

“And t’other’s Wat Brown’s," said Brice, “what 
he done tuck offen him arter he shot him, down thar 
by Lickskillet." 

“Bloody and deceitful men shall not live out half 
their days," remarked Monty Scruggs, recalling his 
Sunday school lesson. 

“Well, I'll turn those over to the Captain, along 
with the papers," said Si, “when I make my report. 
I can’t do nothin’ more than report what’s bin done, 
an’ let the Colonel do what he pleases. Forward! 
March!" 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS’ VENGEANCE. 


61 


Si strode on a little ahead of the rest, reflecting 
gloomily on what had happened. 

“Say, that was an awful slick plan of them fel- 
lers,” burbled little Pete Skidmore, as he trotted 
alongside of Shorty, ahead of the squad, and a little 
behind Si. “I seen it all, but none o’ the rest o’ the 
boys did. I knowed it was a-coming from the time 
we come out on the level there. You see that there 
big lunking boy back there, with the eyes like a cow’s 
and yarn suspenders that hitch the seat of his pants 
up on the back of his neck — he’s a 42d cousin o’ that 
rebel Captain. He wasn’t as sour on them prison- 
ers, of course, as that big feller and that long-legged 
one that’s been with you and Si — them that they 
call Baz and Brice. Well, you know, when we got 
separated going around that big mudhole back there, 
and crossing the crick, I happened to be with Baz 
and Brice, and I overheard them talkin’ to one 
another. They didn’t pay no attention to me, because 
they seemed to think that I was so little I couldn’t 
hear well. They fixed it up that the prisoners should 
be allowed to drop to the rear, in charge of them four 
boys, and that feller with the big eyes and yarn 
gallusses should give ’em the hint to skip at the first 
good chance. Baz and Brice walked on ahead, as if 
not minding anything, but they put fresh caps on 
their guns, and half-cocked ’em, and had ’em ready 
every second, though they pretended to be thinking 
of something else. When the prisoners made the 
break that boy with the big eyes and yarn gallusses 
didn’t try to hit ’em, and I don’t believe the other 
fellers with him did. But Baz and Brice whirled 
around like flashes and put their guns to their faces. 


62 


SI KLEGG. 


But it seems to me that they waited a whole minute 
before they shot. Then their guns cracked together, 
and both the rebels dropped. Say, that Baz feller’s 
deep as a well.” 

“Pete, are you sure that none o’ the rest o’ the 
boys’ ve got onto that?” Shorty asked earnestly. 

“Sure,” answered Pete. “Sandy was off on the 
other side and didn’t have a chance to see or hear. 
I’m going to tell him.” 

“Not on your life you mustn’t,” Shorty said with 
a solemn earnestness that startled the boy. “Don’t 
you dare, till I tell you, breathe a word of this to no- 
body. Keep your lips so tight shut that a can- 
opener wouldn’t pry ’em apart. If you don’t you may 
ruin me and Si. Them fellers got just what they 
deserved, or rather less’n they deserved, but there’s 
lots o’ queer folks in this world, an’ most o’ ’em 
are ’round headquarters. Me and Si don’t want to 
more courts-martial for quite a spell yit.” 

The mention of a court-martial sobered the boy 
instantly. 

“You can betcher life I won’t 'cheep,” he said 
earnestly. 

Si strode on, getting gloomier every minute over 
the explanation that he would have to make as to 
his derelictions as rear-guard, and the unexplainable 
carelessness which allowed the killing of his prison- 
ers, and men too, of such rank and importance. He 
thought of the severe cross-examination that Capt. 
McGillicuddy would subject him to, of his severe 
looks at his answers, and his finally taking him up 
to the Colonel, where the ordeal would be still worse, 
and end he could not tell how. Without saying a 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS* VENGEANCE. 


6S 


word, and only an occasional glance backward to see 
that his squad was following and well-closed up, he 
threaded his way through the teams, took cut-offs to 
shorten the distance, and find better marching, and 
finally, in the middle of the afternoon, came up to the 
brigade lying in line-of-battle on a low hill in front 
of Pine Mountain. 

He was astonished at the glad cheers which wel- 
comed his appearance. Co. Q threw their hats in the 
air and yelled with such vehemence that the rebels 
in the trenches across the little hollow thought a 
charge was coming, and rose up and opened a hot 
fire. 

Everybody, Si and his squad included, jumped for 
cover, and responded with his musket. After the 
flurry died down^to occasional shots Capt. McGilli- 
cuddy came over to Si with beaming face, and said 
delightedly : 

“Sergeant, I’m glad to see you. I’ve been worry- 
ing frightfully about you. - I was sure that you had 
run into the rebels and been captured. They hung 
around us pretty close for a long time last night, and 
we turned to the right to get further away from 
them, and in the mud and the rain, and the rush, 
nobody seems to have thought of leaving a man at 
the forks of the road to give you directions. I’ve 
been blaming myself terribly for my neglect.” 

“Why, Cap,” said Si, a great load lifted from his 
mind, “I’ve bin abusin’ my own dumbness for takin’ 
the wrong road. I’ve told myself a thousand times 
that I was stupider than an ox for not follerin’ a 
plain trail, such as you left, but I come to a place 
where the ground was hard, an’ the rain had washed 


64 


SI KLEGG. 


out the tracks, an’ I took the road I though you’d 
gone on, an’ run smack into the rebels. Things 
looked mighty sick for a little while, but we finally 
all got away, an’ brung a rebel Captain and Lieu- 
tenant with us.” 

“Good ! Good!” said the Captain, exultingly. “I 
can trust you to get out of scrapes.” 

“Shorty done the most,” Si reminded him. 

“Yes; Shorty’s a daisy, too. You’re a great pair. 
I don’t believe you have your equals. You brought 
off all your boys safely?” 

“All of ’em,” responded Si proudly. “There they 
are. You kin see ’em.” 

“Where are your prisoners?” 

Si’s face fell at once. 

“Why, Cap,” he said regretfully, “I’ll have to con- 
fess that I was too careless about them. We brung 
’em off all right, with these 10 Union men who 
wanted to git away from the rebels. After we’d got 
away the Tennesseeans wanted to kill ’em, because 
they wuz specially bad men, who’d bin persecutin’ 
their people, an’ killin’ some of ’em. I wouldn’t let 
’em. But after awhile, me and Shorty wuz bothered 
about finding the regiment, an’ went ahead a little 
ways lookin’ for it, leavin’ the prisoners in charge 
of the Tennesseeans. I didn’t even do as I should 
have done, put them in charge of our own boys. It 
was awful careless, I know, but I was anxious to git 
back to the regiment. The prisoners made a break, 
an’ they wuz shot before they’d run far. I’m awful 
sorry. Here are their papers an’ things. I’ll go 
right up to the Colonel with you, an’ tell him the 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS* VENGEANCE. 


65 


whole story, so’s you needn’t have any responsibility 
for it. It was all my fault.” 

“Killed them, did they?” said the Captain, taking 
the things.” 

“Deader’n mackerel,” said Shorty, speaking for 
the first time. 

“Well,” said the Captain nonchalantly, “such acci- 
dents will happen in the best regulated families. 
Don’t think any more about it. I’d much rather have 
you back safe and sound than a hundred dead rebels. 
So long as the rebels didn’t get away and were killed 
running, the rest don’t matter. We have other more 
important matters on hand than discussing fine 
points of guard duty. You’d better take those other 
men back to the provost-guard. They ’ll put them 
with the other dSfeerters who have come over.” 

“Cap’n,” said Basil Peters, who had come up close 
enough to overhear this last remark, “that’s jist what 
I want ter speak ter you about. We’uns don’t want 
ter ‘go back thar, but stay right hyar with yo’uns. 
We hain’t no desarters. We’uns never belonged ter 
no rebel army, no more’n a man belongs ter a jail 
whar he’s locked up. We’uns is Union plum 
through, an hain’t no truck nor dicker with rebels, 
except ter fight they’uns. We’uns never belonged ter 
the rebel army, but only stayed thar bekase we’uns 
had ter. We’uns got away the fust chance, and now 
we’uns want ter fight fer the Union. We’uns’ve 
talked hit over amongst ourselves, an’ concluded that 
we’uns’d ruther jine your company nor anybody 
else’s. You’ve got a good favor, an’ we’uns’ve done 
tuck ter you.” 

3 


66 


SI KLEGG. 


“Thank you for the compliment, gentlemen,” said 
Capt. McGillicuddy. “We need more men in the 
company, especially such fine, able-bodied men as you 
appear to be. But it’s pretty dangerous for you to 
join with me. If the rebels should capture you 
they’d shoot you down like dogs.” 

“We’uns ’ll look out for that,” said Peters. “We’- 
uns’ve kalkilated all that ’ere.” 

“But,” continued the Captain, “the command that 
you’ve come from is probably right out there in front 
of us. You’ll run a great deal more danger of being 
recognized than if you went back and enlisted in an 
army in another part of the country.” 

“No,” answered Peters, doggedly, “We’uns want 
ter stay right hyar. That thar rijimint in front is 
Gilmartin’s, the one that they had we’uns in. Hit’s 
got more mean men in hit than ary other in the 
Southern Confedrisy, an’ hit’s the one we want to 
fout. We’uns want the chance ter kill off every officer 
in hit. We can’t git so good a chance nowhar else. 
We’uns know this rijimint — the 200th Injianny. 
We’uns ’ve heered them over thar talk lots about hit. 
Hit’s allers bin in front o’ they’uns, an’ probably 
allers will be, until they’uns is done killed off an’ 
licked out, an’ we’uns want ter help do hit. Mister, 
you’ll let us jine, won’t you?” 

“You think that we can trust them, don’t you, Ser- 
geant?” Capt. McGillicuddy asked Si in an aside. 

“Yes,” answered Si, “in everything but guarding 
rebel prisoners.” 

“Well, men,” Capt. McGillicuddy said, “I’ll go up 
and see the Colonel, and I think I can arrange it to 
enlist you.” 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS’ VENGEANCE. 


67 


The Colonel gave his consent, the Adjutant pro- 
vided enlistment blanks, which each man signed with 
his “mark,” and was duly sworn in. There was a 
vim with which each swore to bear “true faith and 
allegiance to the United States, against all enemies 
and opposers, whatsoever, either foreign or do- 
mestic,” that increased the confidence and interest 
of the members of Co. Q in their new comrades. The 
Tennessebans did not understand what foreign or 
domestic” meant, but they knew the meaning of 
“enemies,” and guessed that the other words alluded 
to rebels. When the Adjutant announced that they 
were mustered in, they were received with cheers, 
and the members of the company welcomed them 
with cordial handshakings. The Orderly-Sergeant put 
their names on -his roster, and they were given 
Springfield muskets, in exchange for their Enfields, 
from the company’s stock. 

There was a second line of works near the top of 
the mountain in front of them, and from this came 
a group of rebel officers, apparently of high rank, 
who walked leisurely forward, and began studying 
our lines. They could be seen to hold field-glasses to 
their eyes, and to point out to each other the extent 
and direction of the Union lines. 

“Have you any idee who them are?” Si asked Basil 
Peters. 

“From this distance it looks like ole Joe Johnston 
hisself, and a lot o’ his big-bugs. That big, fat man 
looks like ole Bishop Polk, who commands the corps 
they had we’uns in,” answered Peters. “Wish ter 
the Lord Almighty I had a gun as big as a log, that’d 
shoot that fur, an’ blow the sanctimonious ole var- 


68 


SI KLEGG. 


mint to damnation, whar he belongs. The devil’s 
fingers ’ve bin itchin’ fur him this many a day.” 

As he spoke the group turned and began moving 
back toward the protection of the works from which 
they had emerged. Some walked very fast, some 
actually ran, but the large, fleshy man turned with 
deliberation, and walked slowly. 

A rifled cannon to the left and rear of Co. Q 
cracked sharply, and a shell went screeching over 
the little valley. It burst so near the large, fleshy 
man that he disappeared in its smoke, and when this 
raised he was seen lying on the ground. A squad 
of men jumped over the works, picked him up and 
carried him back. 

A cheer ran along our lines, and Si and Shorty, 
looking in the direction of the battery which had 
fired the well-aimed shot, saw sitting on their horses 
near it, Gens. Sherman and Thomas, with a portion 
of their staff. 

“Glory to God!” shouted Basil Peters, springing 
up on the bank, and swinging his hat. “Ole Parson 
Polk is gone. One of our inimies is struck down by 
the hand o’ the Lord, which aimed that cannon. Let 
the good work go on until the last one o’ Jeff Davis’s 
followers is sent ter jine him.” / 

“Hullo, Baz Peters, you’re over thar amongst the 
Yankees, are you, yo’ cantin’, whinin’, white-livered 
Lincolnite!” yelled a man in the rebel works. “I 
done tole ’em fust thing this mornin’, when they 
missed you, that thar’s whar yo’ wuz. Take that for 
your nigger gizzard.” 

With that the speaker fired, and Peters jumped 
down behind the bank and seized his gun. 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS’ VENGEANCE. 


69 


“Yes, Wils Branham,” he shouted back, “I’m 
hyah, an’ gwine ter stay. I’m at last whar I belong. 
You can’t shoot no better’n yo’ ever could, which 
wuz none. Take that for your black rebel heart.” 

His shot was evidently more effective than his 
opponent’s, for it was followed by a groan, at which 
Co. Q cheered. 

“I got in even a better shot on Wash Stembell this 
mornin’/’ Peters shouted. “And Brice Wolf laid out 
’Lije Willoughby. They’re both grub for buzzards 
today. They won’t go ’round conscriptin’ nobody no 
more.” 

“You infernal deserters,” roared the voice which Si 
and Shorty recognized as that of the Colonel of the 
regiment, “I’m coming over there for you presently, 
and then I’ll hang you higher’n Haman.” 

“Look out fur your own skelp, Cunnel Bill Gil- 
martin,” Peters shouted defiantly. “Hit’s in more 
danger ’n our’n. We’uns is cornin’ arter your’n 
mouty soon, an’ we’ll git hit, too.” 

The mortal bitterness of the hatred between the 
Tennesseeans astonished even the veterans, hardened 
to violence and bloody deeds. 

“The orders are,” said the Orderly-Sergeant, 
coming up from the rear, “that the front rank shall 
go back there a little ways, where they’ll find some 
cuts of logs, which the pioneers have sawed up. Each 
man’ll get one of these, and roll it in front of him 
over the works. Then the rear rank’ll go back and 
each man get a cedar bush which he’ll find there, 
with a sharpened point. The front rank will lie 
down snug behind their logs and roll them across to 
the edge of that abatis. The rear rank will crawl 


70 


SI KLEGG. 


along behind, and when the line of logs is formed 
they will each stick his cedar bush down before the 
log of his front rank man. Understand, all of you?” 

“Great scheme, that,” said Si, approvingly, as he 
rolled his section of a log over the works in front, 
with Monty Scruggs trailing the brush behind. 
“Now, mind Monty, and keep keerfully in line behind 
this back-log as I push it forrard, and keep your 
head down, and you’ll be safe.” 

“This is Birnam wood going to Dunsinane over 
again,” remarked Monty, remembering his Macbeth. 

The rebels opened a sharp fire as the logs began 
rolling forward, but enough men had been left in the 
works to reply sufficiently to disturb their aim, and 
the line rolled forward steadily with few casualties. 

At the edge of the abatis the sections of log were 
quickly arranged so as to afford a continuous pro- 
tection, and the cedar brush thrust down in front 
screened the men behind from the rebel sharp- 
shooters. 

“Well,” said Shorty, contemplating the result with 
satisfaction, “the longer a man lives the more, by 
Jehosephat, he finds out. That’s a new one on me. 
The man that thought that out had a head as big as 
a pumpkin, and plum full o’ brains. I’d like to ex- 
change tin-types with him.” 

“Now,” said Si, as he seated himself down behind 
his log, scanned his squad to see that they were all 
safely under cover, and cautiously worked a little 
opening in the cedar branches to see and shoot 
through, “I’d like to see any butternut scalawag so 
much as stick a finger up over there. I kin even pare 
his nails for him at this distance.” 


THE EAST TENNESSEEANS’ VENGEANCE. 


71 


As soon as the line settled down, and the firing 
had died away, the Tennesseeans, led by Basil Peters, 
resumed their taunting of their late companions. 
The bitterest insults and foulest reproaches that ton- 
gue could frame were hurled back and forth across 
the narrow space between the two lines. 

“Lord send that ole Cunnel Bill Gilmartin will 
only stick his evil poll up,” Basil Peters whispered 
to Si, after crawling up nigh him; “I’m layhT for 
him, thepizen varmint. He’s jinerully mouty skeery 
erbout exposin’ hisself, but he’ll do hit when he 
thinks everything’s quieted down. Leave him ter me. 
Don’t nobody shoot around here fur a long time, an’ 
don’t nobody shoot afore me. Will yo’ do hit?” 

“Yes,” answered Si, rather reluctantly, for he still 
had a grudge over the affair of the prisoners, “if he’s 
your meat I’ll help you git him. He’s bothered us 
long enough.” 

“Well, he’s right over thar in front o’ me,” con- 
tinued Peters. “You kin tell his voice amongst the 
others. I know jest how he’ll do. I’ve seen him do 
it a hundred times on the way down hyah. He wears 
a white hat with a silver star and a feather. Arter 
everything’s quieted down he’ll begin projekin with 
that hat. He’ll shove hit up a little ways and then 
jerk hit back. If hit don’t bring any shot arter sev- 
eral times he’ll put hit on again, and finally raise his 
head cautious-like, and peek over the bank. I’ll wait 
till he does that an’ then I’ll fetch him.” 

“All right,” said Si, “I’ll keep the boys quiet, and 
let you have the field to yourself.” 

Everything became deathly still along Si’s front. 


72 


SI KLEGG. 


The rain ceased, the clouds cleared away, and the 
moon came out brilliantly. 

“Hist, thar comes the white hat,” said Peters in a 
thrilling whisper. Si looked and saw the hat come 
up above the bank, and then disappear with a jerk. 
Again and again it came up, but the motion was too 
nervous and jerky for it to be on a head. Presently 
it came up with a slower, steadier motion, as if the 
wearer were careful to get no higher than would 
just enable his eyes to clear the little log in front. 
The whole crown was soon visible, and then the rim. 

“He’s studyin’ whether he kin send Bill Tubbs with 
a squad down that path thar on a rush ter git me,” 
whispered Peters, with his eyes fixed along his 
sights. “He’ll raise a little higher yit, an’ I’ll fetch 
him right in that evil eye o’ his’un. I’ve wanted ter 
knock hit out a thousand times.” 

The hat raised a half-inch higher, and Peters’s 
rifle cracked wickedly in the night air. 

“The Cunnel’s hit ! Look out fur the Cunnel thar,” 
cried voices on the other side, and cheers went up 
from ours. 


CHAPTER V. 


A MISSION OF VENGEANCE BY THE EAST TENNESSEEANS 
LEADS TO THE BREAKING OF THE REBEL LINES. 

T H*E point at which the 200th Ind. had estab- 
lished itself was not more than 300 feet from 
the rebels. The two forces were so close to- 
gether that the murmur of conversation could be 
heard, and words spoken in a slightly higher tone 
were plainly audible. 

At that proximity, with the bright moonlight, and 
both lines filled with savagely alert men, the pro- 
jection of so much as half an inch of the head, body, 
or limbs beyond the sheltering log was sure to bring 
a shot which would hit. The screen of cedar bushes 
proved a better protection to the 200th Ind. than the 
head-logs were to their enemies. The slits under 
the head-logs showed shifting lights and dark shad- 
ows, when those behind rose up, or neared them, 
which the Indianians quickly learned to notice, and 
to get in fine shots. On the other hand, the cedar 
brush was confusing and the rebels soon grew weary 
of shooting at the shaking branches, when they real- 
ized that these were shaken purposely, in order to 
draw their fire, and get them to expose themselves 
to return shots. 

An angry outburst of firing had followed the kill- 
( 73 ) 


74 


SI KLEGG. 


ing of the Colonel, but this was more passionate than 
well-directed, and cost the rebels far more injury 
than they inflicted. The 200th Ind. kept closely 
under cover, and took instant advantage of any 
wrathful recklessness on the part of their foes. 

The number of casualties among the rebels soon 
tamed them down, and their firing ceased, except 
when the irrepressible Pete, Sandy, Monty, Harry, 
Gid and Alf would stir things up by shaking the 
bushes, and talking loudly, as if the regiment were 
preparing for a charge. So soon had even those fresh, 
green school-boys become accustomed to the continu- 
ous, close, bloody, desperate work of the long At- 
lanta campaign that they regarded tricking the 
rebels into firing a fruitless volley as a lively prac- 
tical joke. 

There was none of this boy-play, however, for the 
East Tennesseeans. There was no room in their 
hearts for aught but black, vengeful thoughts. At 
last had come a chance to wreak their rankling 
hatred upon men who had been persecuting them and 
theirs for years. It was unbearable to them that 
the men over there actually lived, and when they 
recognized a voice there came with it burning 
memories of insults and wrongs that made them as 
fierce, cunning, and artful as hungry panthers to 
slay the men they heard speak. 

“Ole Majah Ben Whitehouse’s done tuck command 
o’ the rijimint,” Basil Peters explained to Si, as they 
listened to the orders. “He’s a mouty sight pizener 
’n ole Cunnel Bill Gilmartin. Bill Gilmartin could 
be half-white at times, ’specially when he had 
only about three jiggers o’ likker aboard, an’ felt jist 


BREAKING OF THE REBEL LINES. 


75 


good an’ comfortable like. But Majah Ben White- 
house hain’t no streak o’ goodness in him at any 
time, no.more’n a rattlesnake has. He’s a lantern- 
jawed, flint-hearted lawyer, with no mo’ red blood 
in him than a snake. His long white front teeth 
stick out like a snake’s when he’s a-gwine ter strike, 
an’ Ben’s allers ready ter strike. He’s got little red 
eyes jist like a snake’s, fur they never seem ter shet. 
Ben comes from the po’ white trash up on the head- 
waters of the Holston. Them big rebels ’round 
Knoxville done tuck him up, an’ made him think that 
he wuz somebody, an’ he done pays ’em by bein’ 
meaner’n a catamount ter respectable Union people 
down in the valleys, who nacherully despised him an’ 
his ornery, sang-diggin’ shif’less folks.” 

“Yo’ must let me have him, Baz,” said Brice Wolf, 
with set teeth. “Yo’ done got Cunnel Bill Gilmartin, 
but I must have Ben Whitehouse. Yo’ recolleck he 
done burned my daddy’s stable bekase he couldn’t 
ketch me, an’ arter he’d done kotched me he tucked 
me up an’ whipped me.” The Tennesseean’s sallow 
cheek burned at the thought of the cruel indignity. 

“Yes, he’s yore meat. Yo’ kin have him,” returned 
Peters. “But be mouty sho’ yo’ git him. I feel as if 
we’uns ortent ter go ter sleep as long as he cumbers 
the airth.” 

“That’s his voice now,” hissed Brice Wolf, “but 
he’s safe behind that e’er twin oak jist beyant the 
works.” 

Thin, nasal tones floated from the direction indi- 
cated : 

“Keep cool, men. Don’t shoot until you’re certain 
of hitting something. Lay low, and save your car- 


76 


SI KLEGG. 


tridges. We hain’t none to waste, and no Yankee 
alive’s worth more’n one. Let him have it just 
where it’ll settle him.” 

“I’m laying fer yo’ Ben Whitehouse, yo’ mangy 
red fox,” shouted Brice Wolf. “I’ve got an account 
ter settle with yo’. Hit’s me, Brice Wolf.” 

“0, you needn’t tell me who you are, you Hia- 
wassee alligator,” returned the other scornfully. “I’d 
know that dry-axle screech of yours among a thou- 
sand. I’m layin’ for you, too, an’ I’ll get you, too. 
Stiggins, you an’ Mapes keep a special watch for 
that Lincolnite deserter, and put his light out at the 
quick as you kin’.” 

The men indicated fired a couple of shots in obedi- 
ence to this order, aiming at the sound of Wolf’s 
voice, who laughed sardonically at their failure to 
hit him. 

“He stuck his ugly mug out atween the forks o’ 
that e’re twin oak when he gin the order, Brice,” 
said Baz. “But he tuck hit back so quick I didn’t git 
no chance to shoot. If he does hit agin, I’m a-gwine 
ter git him without regard ter yore first bid.” 

The gentle wind that had been blowing suddenly 
increased to a gust, which brought up a mass of 
black clouds, quenching the bright moonlight in a 
thick pall of inky darkness. Then the rain began 
to fall in torrents. It rained most of the time on the 
Atlanta campaign, but this was one of the deluges 
that came up unexpectedly, and seemed to drop 
oceans of water within a few minutes. Every one 
cowered under it, to wait until it spent its force. But 
it continued as if it would never quit. The men 
crawled out of the ditches, and lay flat on the ground, 


BREAKING OF THE REBEL LINES. 


77 


with their guns and their precious cartridge-boxes 
under them, as the best protection they could give 
their ammunition. In the midst of the noise of the 
dashing rain came a voice from the works in front : 

“Say, Yanks, air yo’uns drowned out?” 

“Mighty nigh,” answered Si. “How is it with 
you ?” 

“Plumb drowned. What do yo’uns say ter a 
King’s ex till yo’uns and we’uns kin dreen off the 
% water. No shootin’ till the rain’s over?” 

“All right,” answered Si promptly. “You stay 
inside your works, and we’ll stay inside our’n. We 
want to do a little drainage ourselves.” 

“All right. Hit’s a go. No shootin’ now till we 
pass the word, an’ we’uns ’ll stay whar we air.” 

In a moment everybody on both sides sprang up, 
and with shovels, picks, bayonets, half-canteens, 
case-knives, and whatever other implements were 
handy, began cutting ditches to drain away the water 
which filled the trenches behind the lines, and 
threatened to literally drown them. They worked 
hard as long as the rain lasted, and succeeded in get- 
ting clear of all the water but that which was falling. 

Presently the rain ceased almost as suddenly as 
it had begun, the clouds drifted away, and the moon 
came out brightly, revealing the two lines standing 
up behind their works, looking curiously at each 
other. 

“Much obliged, Johnnies,” said Si with a wave of 
his hand. “Hunt your holes, now. We’re goin’ to 
begin business agin.” 

“All right, Yank,” said the other, as the line drop- 


78 


SI KLEGG. 


ped behind the bank. “So long. We’uns ’ll see 
yo’uns later.” 

Both sides fired sputtering volleys to show that 
the little truce was ended, and also to see whether 
their guns would go off. 

“I ketched sight o’ Majah Ben Whitehouse when 
the moon come out,” said Brice Wolf, as he settled 
himself into the mud in the ditch. “He’s behind 
them thar twin oaks for sartin. He jumped back 
behind ’em when the Sarjint hollered. I’ll git him 
yit, for sho’, dod blast his ornery hide.” 

Something to the far right attracted Basil Peters’s 
attention, and he crawled over to examine it. He 
presently came back on his hands and knees, and 
said to Brice Wolf : 

“Thar’s a gully over thar that runs clean acrost 
they’uns lines inter our’n. Hit’s runnin’ bank 
full o’ water, like a tail-race. They’uns had hit full 
o’ brush and truck, but now that’s swep’t down inter 
a big pile agin our lines, leavin’ the gully free o’ 
everything but water. The banks air deep enough 
ter screen a man, an’ if yo’ wait a little bit till the 
water runs out some, yo’ kin snake along under 
kivver o’ the banks, an’ come ter whar I think yo’ 
kin have the dead-wood on Majah Ben Whitehouse, 
a-settin’ behind them twin oaks. By rights, I orter 
have the fust shy at him, sense I found the way, but 
I’ll let yo’ go fust, an’ I’ll foller, and try ter git the 
drop on Cap’n Jack Wines, who’s the next in rank.” 

“I’ll go hit,” said Brice Wolf, I’ll go to the gates o’ 
hell fur a good, fa’r chance ter kill Ben Whitehouse.” 
He wiped off his gun and began carefully loading it. 

“What’s that you say about that gulch cuttin’ 


BREAKING OF THE REBEL LINES. 


79 


acrost their lines ?” asked Si, with deep interest, and 
edging around a little to get a good view of the rush- 
ing torrent. “I believe in my soul it does but it’s full 
o’ water now, and you can’t do nothin’ in it.” 

“But the water ’ll run out in half an hour or so, 
if it don’t rain no more,” suggested Shorty, who 
began to see possibilities. 

“Couldn’t a lot of us slip along under cover o’ the 
banks, and git where we could take them fellers in 
* the rear and rattle ’em for goodness’ sake, while the 
boys let into ’em from the front?” suggested Si. 

“The roarin’ water ’d keep ’em from hearin’ the 
noise we’d make,” said Shorty. “I’m up for any- 
thing. This layin’ in the mud waitin’ an’ watchin’ 
an’ pot-shootin’s gittin’ mighty monotonous. I want 
a change that got’s some life in it to wind up this 
pleasant moonlight night. Go over to the Captain, 
Si, and ask him to let us try it.” 

“Look hyah, Mister,” said Peters, jealously, “I 
done found that thar place, an’ve got the fust right 
ter hit. Hit’s fur me an’ Brice thar. If yo’uns all 
go stompin’ over thar, like a bunch o’ steers, yo’uns 
’ll spile everything. Let me and Brice go, an’ arter 
we’uns air through our work, yo’uns kin do what 
yo’ please. But keep quiet. . Don’t go cavortin’ 
around, an’ drawin’ they’uns attention ter the place.” 

“All right, you an’ your partner shall go first,” 
said Si, who had come back. “The Captain says that 
if we think there is a chance we kin try it. When we 
git ready, he’ll have a fire opened up at the other 
end o’ the line, to draw their attention. But I don’t 
know as that’s necessary. If they’re as tired an’ 
sleepy as the boys on this side, they won’t be keepin’ 


80 


SI KLEGG. 


a sharp lookout anywhere, an’ that chance is in our 
favor. It’s nigh midnight, now, an’ they must be 
mighty sleepy, after the racket we’ve bin givin’ ’em 
all day.” 

Dead stillness reigned along the lines, only broken 
by the sound of the water rushing through the gully, 
and occasional shots far away to the right and left 
by dozing men, fallen asleep under over-powering 
fatigue, which yet could not banish the haunting 
sense of danger. 

The moon, large as a cart-wheel, and glorious in 
her fullness, flooded the damp earth with her silvery 
light, and seemed to breathe love, and peace and 
gentleness, utterly at variance with the tumult and 
strife of the day. 

Si remembered that the moon shone just that way 
over the wet fields at home, one night after a wel- 
come rain which put new life into the corn and 
wheat, and he walked home with Annabel down the 
lane which led from his father’s house to her father’s. 
Puddles of water lay along the ground, as now, and 
he felt the first flushings of his young love and care 
for her, as he guided her steps past them, and helped 
her over the worst places. And there had been some- 
thing thrilling in the sweetly responsive way in 
which she yielded to and accepted his guidance and 
help. It was the definite beginning of the feeling 
that they belonged to one another, and would travel 
thus down that infinite lane which leads to eternity. 
He put his hand in his bosom and touched Annabel’s 
picture, as he had grown into the habit of doing, 
when face-to-face with imminent crises. His last 


BREAKING OF THE REBEL LINES. 


81 


thought would be of her before the whirlwind of 
action which would end God alone knew how. 

Something of the same thoughts possessed Shorty. 
For a few minutes he took his eyes off the line in 
front, sat upright behind his bushy screen, closed 
them, put his hand on the precious packet which con- 
tained his souvenirs of Maria, and abandoned him- 
self to thoughts of her, now sleeping in maidenly 
beauty and innocence in that dear old farmhouse in 
the Valley of the Wabash. Dominant over every 
other was the burning question asked himself a hun- 
dred thousand times, “How much and in what way 
does she care for me?” and the ever-recurring an- 
swer, “It don't make no difference. I'd give more 
for her least liking than the most any other girl 
could give me." 

His thoughts were broken in upon by Basil Peters 
crawling up and whispering : 

“Thar’s four o’ we’uns a-gwine ahead. Fust 
Brice, then me, then Wils Brooks, then Eph Young.’’ 

“That puts me an’ Shorty too fur behind,’’ 
demurred Si. “We’re non-commissioned officers, and 
by rights orter go first, but I give way to you an’ 
Brice. I won’t give up to no more.’’ 

“But, Mister,’’ pleaded Basil Peters, “we four’ve 
each got a man we’uns air achin’ ter git. We’uns 
mayn’t be likely ter git ’em in the jinerul ruction. 
Let we’uns go fust an’ git ’em sho’ an’ hard, an’ 
then yo’uns kin have all the rest. Yo’uns kin pile in 
the whole army then, if you keer ter.’’ 

“Well, go ahead,’’ yielded Si. 

“Here, Pete,’’ said Shorty, waking that youth from 
his uneasy slumber in the mud, “you an’ Sandy stay 


82 


SI KLEGG. 


back an’ take care of the blankets an’ haversacks. 
Harry, wake up Monty, Alf an’ Gid there, an’ crawl 
along behind me an’ Si. Don’t make no more noise 
than a cat. Sandy, slip down to the Orderly-Ser- 
geant, and tell him we’re startin’.” 

“I want to go, too,” begged Pete. 

“No,” said Shorty authoritatively. “You stay 
behind, an’ as this is man’s work it’d better be you.” 

“You always make me stay behind,” whimpered 
Pete. 

The brushwood and stuff which had been washed 
out of the gulch formed a big clump against the 
Union line, and behind this the four Tennesseeans 
and Si and Shorty gathered. Lying flat on the 
ground in their rear, were Harry, Alf, Gid and 
Monty, and others of Co. Q, as they awakened, 
crawled along the places in the rear, ready for an 
instant rush. 

Si carefully surveyed the gulch, as far as he could, 
without attracting the notice of the rebels. It was 
a yard or more wide, and probably three feet deep, 
with rough, jagged banks, that would be a good pro- 
tection to those crawling up, from the fire from 
either side. The abatis on the banks afforded ad- 
ditional protection. The main danger was the rebels 
might have noticed the opening made by the gulch, 
and have a squad stationed to fire along its length. 
On this they would have to take their chances. 

“They may have a whole company lyin’ for us at 
the head o’ the gulch,” Si whispered to Shorty. 

“Well, if they have, they have, that’s all,” returned 
his partner. “We’ve got to take the risk. It’s worth 


BREAKING OF THE REBEL LINES. 


83 


it. War’s risky business, at best, an’ one risk more 
or less don’t matter.” 

The gulch had been running nearly bank full, but 
the water had now subsided until it was less than 
a foot in depth, but still coursing with great force 
and noise. 

“Better risk hit now,” said Basil Peters, im- 
patiently probing the water. “The longer we wait 
the more chances there’ll be agin we’uns, and the 
longer them skunks ’s a-livin’. Let’s git at ’em.” 

“Go ahead,” answered Si. 

Fixing their bayonets, and capping their fresh- 
loaded guns, the Tennesseeans, one by one, let them- 
selves down into the water, and began creeping for- 
ward with the stealthy noiselessness of their Indian 
and panther-hunting forefathers. Their footsteps 
did not make a break in the rushing noise of the 
water, and they hugged the dark left bank so closely 
that they seemed part of the swaying shadows of the 
brush and weeds. 

Si and Shorty tried to follow as stealthily, but it 
seemed that the splash they made must arouse the 
rebels. 

Brice Wolf slipped around the ragged edge cut by 
the water in the rebel bank, and peered cautiously 
right and left. To the right there was no one for 
some distance. Apparently, at its flood the water 
had swept over there, and left a thick layer of thin 
mud, which made it untenable for those stationed 
there. A log had been placed transversely, to stop 
enfilading shots, and probably the rebels were behind 
that, either watching their front, or else succumbing 
to weariness and sleep. Nearby on the left lay a 


84 


SI KLEGG. 


man with his gun-barrel thrust through the crack 
under the head-log. He had been watching a chance 
for a shot, when he had been overcome with intense 
fatigue, and gone to sleep. 

“Hit’s Madison Simms,” Bruce Wolf whispered 
back to the others. “Wils, there’s your man. Jump 
him, but don’t make no noise. Use your bay’net.” 

Wilson Brooks, the third in line, swung himself 
noiselessly up on to the bank and lay there for an 
instant, as if he was one of the defenders of the line. 
Then, as the others crept onward he edged over 
toward his enemy, and suddenly rising, plunged his 
bayonet through the sleeping man’s back, sank to the 
earth again, and crawled over to rejoin his com- 
panions. 

He came to them, halted in a clump of weeds and 
briars growing out of the rank soil by the edge of 
the swale. 

“I sent him the trip,” he said in a low drawl. “He 
never kicked. Didn’t know what hurt him. Baz, 
your man, Cap Wines, is a-settin’ over thar on a 
rock, fast asleep.” 

“I’ve done seed him,” said Peters, significantly. 

“And your’n, Eph, Tomps Young, is a-settin’ on 
another rock ter his right, fast asleep, too.” 

“I’ve done seed him,” said Eph, bringing his gun 
to his shoulder. 

“And thar’s mine,” said Brice Wolf, with the 
fierce, low hiss of a rattlesnake. “Thar’s Majah Ben 
Whitehouse, a-settin’ behind them thar twin oaks. 
But I’m not a-gwine ter shoot him. I want him ter 
know jist who sends him ter ole Beelzebub, an’ what 
hit was fur, an’ ter carry my picture along with him, 


BREAKING OF THE REBEL LINES. 


85 


ter remember me when he’s a roastin’. Don’t none 
of yo’ shoot yit fur a minute or two. I’m a-gwine 



“USE YOUR BAY'NET.” 


right up ter him, an’ wake him, an’ then sock my 
bayonet inter him.” 

He got down and crawled up near to where the 
Major sat behind the trees dozing. Then he stood 


86 


SI KLEGG. 


up before his victim, and brought the butt of his 
musket down on a dry branch at his feet with such 
force as to break it. The Major started, rubbed his 
eyes and awoke. Not recognizing the form before 
him he said : 

“What are you doing away from the lines? Go 
back to. your place at once, and stay there.” 

“I ain’t a-gwine back, Majah Ben Whitehouse,” 
said the Tennesseean in a savage whisper, “but 
you’re a-gwine whar you didn’t expect ter, yo’ mur- 
derin’ villain. Hit’s me, Brice Wolf, what yo’ tucked 
up an’ licked like yo’ would a black nigger. Know 
me, now, yo’ devil’s imp?” 

The Major instinctively reached for his revolver, 
but as his hand touched the holster, Brice Wolf drove 
his bayonet through him with such force that the 
point entered the hard wood behind and remained 
firmly fixed. Brice twisted the gun out of the bayo- 
net, and strode back toward the rest. 

“This is too much like cold-blooded murder,” said 
Si, who had been ranging his boys, as they came up, 
where they could open fire on the rear of the rebel 
line. “I can’t stand it. I won’t stand it. I believe 
in givin’ even rebels a chance for their lives. 
Hooray for Injianny!” he shouted at the top of his 
voice. “Hooray for the 200th Injianny Volunteer 
Infantry. Wake up, rebels, we’re onto you.” 

With that he fired into the rebel line, and the rest 
followed his example. Basil Peters and Eph Young 
fired with deadly aim upon their victims, and the 
whole of Co. Q came streaming up the gulch, fol- 
lowed by the other companies, while the rest of the 
brigade, at first opened fire from their fronts, but 


BREAKING OF THE REBEL LINES. 


87 


then seeing the fight going on in rear of the rebel 
lines, sprang forward, made their way through the 
abatis, and speedily joined the 200th Ind., which was 
running the surprised and discomfited rebels back to 
their second line, where fresh troops were rushing 
to their assistance as fast as they could be roused. 

Realizing, with quick soldierly instinct, that they 
had gone as far as they could, the brigade gathered 
up their prisoners, and fell back to the line they had 
just captured, for protection against the increasing 
volume of fire poured upon them. 

A few steps from the works Eph Young fell like a 
log with a shot through his head, and Brice Wolf 
fell almost on top of him, from a bullet through his 
chest. Shorty and Basil Peters picked him up and 
carried him over the bank to shelter. Si stayed out- 
side until he was sure all his boys were back, and 
then leaped over, and began helping the rest “turn 
the works” and put them in shape for facing the 
other way. The early morning dawned before they 
got this completed, and then Si and Shorty began to 
take an account of what had happened. 

They found Brice Wolf lying motionless on the 
ground, and brought the Surgeon to him, who forced 
a little stimulant into his mouth and revived him. 

“He can’t live but a little while,” said the Surgeon ; 
“there’s no use taking him back.” 

“What’s that you say, Mister, that I’m a-dyin’?” 
feebly inquired Wolf. 

“Yes, I’m very sorry to say that you have only a 
few minutes more to live. Anything that you want 
to say?” 


88 


SI KLEGG. 


“I done killed Majah Ben Whitehouse for sho’, 
didn’t I?” asked Brice. 

“Yes, you certainly killed him,” said Shorty. 
“He’s settin’ right over there where he was when you 
struck him. You kin see him from here.” 

“Raise me up and let me see him,” whispered 
Brice. “Yes, thar he is,” he continued, with the light 
of vengeance in his eyes. “Thar he is, jest as I 
thought. I was half-afeared I’d dreamed hit. I’d 
dreamed hit so often afore I was able ter do hit, 
that I was afeared I’d dreamed hit agin. Lay me 
down agin. Good-by.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE BLOODY ASSAULT ON KENESAW MOUNTAIN — THE 
200TH IND.'S BITTER STRUGGLE TO REACH THE REBEL 
WORKS — FEARFUL LOSSES — SI AND SHORTY TAKEN 
PRISONERS. 

unn HAT was quite a neat hitch you worked on 
JL the rebels, Col. McBiddle,” said the Gen- 
eral, coming up to the Colonel, while the 
men were resting from their work of “turning" the 
rebel lines, and making fires of the abatis, to cook 
their breakfasts. “You pierced the rebel line neatly 
and most unexpectedly. It reflects great credit, not 
only on the brigade, but on the whole division, which 
has been enabled by it to advance and strengthen its 
lines. It’s a great night's work for the Wahoo Brig- 
ade. I shall take great pleasure in giving you full 
credit for it, in my report to the General command- 
ing, and commending your soldierly enterprise to 
his favorable consideration." 

“Thank you, General," said the Colonel, saluting. 
“Praise from you is praise indeed. I really don’t 
deserve it, though, for the greater part of the credit 
belongs to Capt. McGillicuddy here, who found the 
break and pushed his company through it. The rest 
of us only followed him. He ought to be made a 
Major for it." 


( 89 ) 


90 


SI KLEGG. 


“I shall have to pass the compliment in turn,” said 
the Captain. “The credit is due to my wide-awake 
and indefatigable Serg’t Klegg and Corp’l Elliott, 
who are always on the lookout for chances to do good 
work. I only gave them leave to go ahead, and then 
followed them.” 

“Really, Cap,” said Si, blushing, through his deep 
coat of tan, “me and Shorty oughtn’t to take to our- 
selves all you give us. We only follered them 
Tennesseeans, who found the break, an’ led the way. 
We didn’t expect to do nothin’ more than bust their 
line a little, and git some prisoners.” 

“This war’s gittin’ too durned civil,” growled 
Shorty, over his half-canteen of frying meat. “Better 
save them compliments till we git away with the 
rebels for good and all. When we bust that line over 
there (and he looked toward Kenesaw Mountain) 
then there’ll be some sense in complimentin’ one an- 
other.” 

“I suppose that’s our next work, General,” said 
the Colonel, pointing to the swarming host in the 
next line of works. “Is it to be an assault, or another 
flank movement?” 

“Can’t tell just yet. Schofield and McPherson are 
manuvering to make Johnston stretch out still 
farther, and develop a thin spot where we can break 
through.” 

“Certainly it does not look like it over there,” said 
Col. McBiddle. 

“I’ll admit that it does not. But Johnston’s line 
is now fully 15 miles long, and there must be weak 
spots somewhere, unless he has got the whole South- 
ern Confederacy out there, which we know he has 


SI AND SHORTY TAKEN PRISONERS. 


91 


not, for there’s plenty of them in front of Grant, and 
Banks seems to have found more than enough.” 

“Well, so far,” returned the General, “though Joe 
Johnston has shown wonderful Generalship in avoid- 
ing a crushing blow from us, and compelled us to at- 
tack him, when we did attack him, behind strong 
works, we have been hurting him badly every day, 
and he has lost far more in killed, wounded and 
prisoners than we have, to say nothing of the ground 
he has been forced to yield. He can’t go on forever 
losing this jvay.” 

“He must have thin spots in his line, when it’s as 
long as it is. He can’t have men enough to hold it 
strongly from one end to the other. He has been 
playing off mountains and woods on us for men. 
That we know.” 

“Yes, and we also know that we have been playing 
off mountains and woods on him for men, or we 
couldn’t have stretched out for 40 or 50 miles, as we 
have frequently done, to get around his flanks. It 
has been a magnificent game of bluff and pretense 
on both sides, mingled with awful hard hitting at 
times, but Sherman has played his side of the game 
a great deal finer than Joe Johnston, and that is why 
we have pushed them back nearly 100 miles from 
where we started two months ago, in spite of their 
having all the advantages of this terrible mountain 
country, where they can make an impregnable fort 
out of a hill in an hour’s work.” 

“Well, we know, for sure, that he has’nt as 
many men as he seems to have. Since we started in 
at Rocky Face Ridge, we have been from one end 
of his line to the other, and we have always met the 


92 


SI KLEGG. 


same regiments. Except the Georgia militia, there 
have been very few new commands come up to him, 
so that there must be thin spots in his long line, and 
if we can only find one and break through it, John- 
ston’s army will be destroyed in a day.” 

“That is true. The only thing for us to do is to 
keep ‘pegging away,’ as Lincoln says. As soon as 
your men have had something to eat, Colonel, you 
will push out a strong skirmish-line to that little rise 
there, and start a line of pits. I’ll see that the bat- 
tery helps you all it can.” , 

“But, General, my men are clear worn out. They 
are nearly dead for rest and sleep.” 

“So is everybody, for that matter. I don’t know 
anybody who isn’t. And if the rebels are not made 
of iron they’re worse off than we are. We have kept 
them on the tenter-hooks every minute since we 
crossed the Etowah, and those fellows out there in 
front of us must be more tired than we are. We 
want to make them still more tired. We must keep 
our lines right up against theirs all the time.” 

“All right. Forward goes the skirmish-line. Capt. 
McGillicuddy, take your company, carry that rise in 
front, and establish a line of rifle-pits.” 

This was the signal for a fresh outburst of the 
storm of cannon and musketry fire, which almost 
hourly shook the hills far and near throughout the 
long Summer days, while Sherman, holding fast to 
the railroad on his extreme left, and slowly crowding 
Johnston back along it, was reaching his right flank 
far out into the country to pass and envelop John- 
ston’s left flank, and gain the railroad at Marietta, 
behind him and his mountain fastnesses. Co. Q went 


SI AND SHORTY TAKEN PRISONERS. 


93 


on a run to the crest of the rise, and then fell flat 
on the ground, and began digging for life with their 
bayonets and half-canteens, to throw up little pro- 
tecting mounds of dirt, while the battery hurled a 
shower of shells over their heads into the rebel 
works, and the rest of the brigade swept the opposite 
line with a searching musketry fire. 

In an astonishingly short time the little mounds 
in front of each man grew big enough to join one 
another, stones, chunks, and brush were feverishly 
gathered up and thrown in front to increase the pile, 
and presently the bank grew high enough to allow 
the use of picks and shovels, when it went forward 
more rapidly, until a formidable line of defense rose 
under the very eyes of the rebels striving to pre- 
vent it. 

The moment that this was accomplished, and the 
men felt secure from the devastating musketry fire, 
they succumbed to the overpowering fatigue, and 
sank upon the ground. But, tired as they were, they 
sprang up again at the first word that the rebels 
were swarming over their works to drive them back. 
Instantly and instinctively they were in line behind 
their little bank, pouring a well-aimed, destructive 
fire on the rebels, which, with that from the right 
and left, checked the sortie and drove the enemy back 
to cover. 

“That wuz ole GilmarthTs rijimint agin,” said 
Basil Peters, cautiously scrutinizing the dead-strewn 
ground in front, “an’ by appearances hit got sali- 
vated wuss’n ever afore. Mouty big passel o’ them 
sang-diggin’ scoundrels ’ve got their last dose. Good 
riddance o’ bad rubbish. Wisht I could see the last 


94 


SI KLEGG. 


o’ they’uns a-layin’ out thar with an ounce o’ lead 
through his gizzard.” 

“We’ll probably make a return call on ’em in the 
mornin’,” said Shorty, stretching his length on the 
ground in the welcome sunshine which had at last 
returned, apparently to stay. “We’ll bust their lines 
this time for certain, an’ then git the rest of ’em. 
Great Jehosephat, I hope the rain’s over at. last. I’m 
blue-moldier than I’ve bin since the Tullyhomy cam- 
paign. Come, Pete, lay down here with me, an’ git 
what rest you kin. You’ll need it about 3 o’clock 
tomorrow morning, when we’ll be called up for an 
early visit acrost the way.” 

Again he was disappointed. The dawn showed 
the works in front entirely tenantless, their occu- 
pants having retired to the still stronger works on 
the frowning slopes of Kenesaw Mountain. 

“This sort o’ thing can’t go on much longer,” Si 
reasoned to Shorty, as they lay and rested during the 
day, the first respite from goading effort that they 
had had for many weeks. “The rebels ain’t goin’ to 
be allowed to fall back over the whole o’ Georgia 
without a big fight. I feel in my bones that this is 
only the calm before a big storm like that of Chicka- 
maugy. Sherman ain’t wastin’ a fine day like this 
for nothin’. We’ll have it red-hot before many days, 
or I’m no prophet.” 

“The way the army’s massing up around us looks 
like it,” replied Shorty. “You kin see they’re pilin’ 
in men from every direction, an’ as we seem to be 
in the center we’re likely to have a front seat in the 
show.” 

“I certainly hope they’ve found that weak spot in 


SI AND SHORTY TAKEN PRISONERS. 


95 


Johnston’s lines that we’ve bin huntin’ for so long,” 
returned Si. “But the looks of things in the front 
don’t indicate it. I’ve bin talkin’ with several boys 
who’ve bin out there where they could git a purty 
good sight o’ the works. They say they’re strongest 
we’ve come agin yit — banks eight or nine feet high, 
an’ lookin’ very thick, with deep ditches, an’ 200 or 
300 feet o’ abatis in front, an’ all sort o’ entangle- 
ments. Some prisoners said that Johnston had 4,000 
niggers workin’ for months on the fortifications, an’d 
bin calculatin’ ever since he left Dalton to give us our 
big fight here.” 

“Well,” said Shorty philosophically, “we’ve heard 
all that story about awful strong works before, an’ 
nothin’ came of it.* We had ’em at Tullyhomy, an’, 
then agin at Buzzard Roost, an’ they didn’t amount 
to shucks agin us. Pap Thomas’s piloted us through 
all right to this time, an’ I’m goin’ to bank on him 
for whatever’s ahead. He gits paid for worryin’ 
about that sort o’ things. I don’t. The $2 a month 
extra I git for bein’ a Corporal isn’t more’n enough 
to pay the wear an’ tear of my mind in managin’ 
the reliefs when I’m Corporal o’ the Guards.” 

The Orderly-Sergeant came up from the rear, and 
his face and manner at once arrested Si and Shorty’s 
attention. His countenance bore a look of deep 
solemnity, instead of the captious austerity that was 
his prevailing mien, and his walk was changed from 
his usual brisk militariness to quiet thoughtfulness. 
By an almost imperceptible movement of his head 
and eyes he indicated to Si and Shorty that he 
wanted to speak with them apart, and they quietly 
rose and followed him behind a clump of bushes. 


96 


SI KLEGG. 


“Boys/’ he said, in quiet, even tones, without a 
trace of his usual snappish asperity, “it’s at last up 
to us. It’s as we have been hearing for the last two 
days as the reason for the concentration of the troops 
around us. Tomorrow morning the army’s going to 
make a square butt against the works, and try to 
bulge through, break old Johnston in two in two 
places and grind him to pieces. Old Sherman’s got 
it up his nose that this flanking business is played 
out, and he’s going to try to bust Johnston wide open, 
and be done with it.” 

“Not a bad idee,” said Si ; “I second that motion.” 

“Has he found the weak place that we’ve bin 
lookin’ for all Summer?” inquired Shorty. 

“There’s just the point,” said the Orderly. “He’s 
got tired of looking for a thin place, and has got it 
into his head that his men are so much better than 
Johnston’s that we can smash them anywhere we 
choose to hit them. This army’s to bull right over 
those heavy works out there, while McPherson, with 
the Army of the Tennessee, is to smash them on 
Little Kenesaw, a mile to our left.” 

“Well, what’s the matter with that?” asked Si, 
puzzled at the subdued, hope-lacking expression of 
the man who was usually keenly sanguine as to the 
success of any movement. “If any army kin do it 
the Army o’ the Cumberland kin. It’s never yit 
bucked up agin anything that it hain’t downed. Them 
works look mighty strong, but I don’t know as 
they’re any worse’n Liberty Gap. If they are, all 
about it is for us to buck a little harder.” 

“What makes you look so down in the mouth, 
Jim?” asked Shorty curiously. “If I didn’t know 


SI AND SHORTY TAKEN PRISONERS. 


97 


you so well, I’d think you had a tetch o’ the buck 
fever. But this ain’t no wuss than a hundred things 
I’ve seen you sail through with head and tail up. 
Ain’t you well, Jim?” 

“Boys,” said the Orderly earnestly, “I wouldn’t 
say this to a soul but you, but this is going to be the 
awfulest slaughter this division’s ever had, not even 
excepting Stone River and Chickamauga. It’s going 
to be torn all to pieces in that infernal abatis, and 
we’re never going to cross those works. We’re going 
to be piled up in front of them, and I’m going to be 
one that’ll lay there with his eyes to the sky.” 

“Nonsense, Jim,” said Si cheerfully. “You’re 
goin’ through all right. We’re all goin’ through. 
We’ll plant the flag o’ the 200th Injianny on the 
works inside o’ 15 minutes after the signal’s given, 
an’ you’ll be throwin’ up your hat an’ yelling when 
it is done.” 

“Why, Jim,” added Shorty, “what’s given you the 
blues now? You’ve had the best kind o’ luck so far. 
You haven’t had a scratch, though you was right 
alongside o’ me and Si when we was laid out. I 
believe you’re cornin’ down with the ager. Better 
go to the Surgeon an’ git a big slug o’ whisky an’ 
quinine. That’ll fetch you around all right, an’ 
you’ll be as chipper as any o’ us.” 

“’Tain’t nonsense, and ’tain’t the ague,” said the 
Orderly, with calm insistence. “I don’t know how 
I know it, but I know it just as I know that this is 
the 26th day of June, that before noon tomorrow I’ll 
be laying in the middle of that abatis, with a bullet- 
hole in my head, and a pile o’ Co. Q around me. 

4 


98 


SI KLEGG. 


Somebody else ’ll call the roll of Co. Q tomorrow 
evening, but there won’t be many to call.” 

“Jim, you certainly are coming down with the 
ager — the reg’ler Wabash ager,” expostulated Si. “It 
always commences with that creepy, skeery feelin’ 
that makes a man feel like as if he was goin’ to be bit 
by a mad dog, or fall down a well, or his hoss kick 
his head off. I’ve had it. Go up to the Surgeon 
an’ git some quinine.” 

“It ain’t the ague, I tell you,” said the Orderly. 
“I know the symptoms of the ague as well as you do. 
I ain’t rattled. You know me well enough for that. 
I know just what’s coming, and am ready for it.” 

“Why don’t you tell Capt. McGillicuddy, an’ he’ll 
be sure to send you off on some duty, an’ not let you 
go in the charge. You’re too good an Orderly for 
him to run any risk o’ losin’.” 

The Orderly’s cheek reddened. “Do you suppose, 
Si Klegg, that I’d put up any story like that to keep 
out o’ the charge? Where did I ever allow you fel- 
lows to go that I didn’t go with you? No, I’m not 
doing any whimpering around the Captain. I’m only 
telling you boys, because you are my best friends, in 
spite of all the little tiffs we’ve had, and because I’m 
sure you’re going to get through. You’ve had your 
dose, and there ain’t anything more coming to you. 
I’ve escaped so far, and now it’s going to come to 
me in a heap. I don’t want either of you to breathe 
a word of this to any one. Here’s my mother’s pic- 
ture, and a young lady’s. Si, I want you to take 
them and send them back to the addresses you find, 
with a letter telling them the news. Now, let’s talk 
no more about this. There’s other things more im- 


SI AND SHORTY TAKEN PRISONERS. 


99 


portant. The orders are for reveille at 5 o’clock 
tomorrow morning, breakfast, and immediately form 
in line, with guns and cartridge-boxes only, the regi- 
ment in close column by division, the 200th Ind. in 
front, the rest of the brigade behind. The whole 
corps will be massed up solid, and with all the artil- 
lery in action that can be brought to bear, and if 
mortal men can burst through those lines it will be 
done. There will be a hell opened up there which 
will make anything that we have seen before seem 
like only a Fourth-of-July celebration. You fellows 
who live through tomorrow will have something to 
remember as long as you live. Now, we mustn’t say 
anything to discourage the boys. I’m going to tell 
them that we are sure to capture the works, and I 
know you will do the same. Let’s get supper, and 
to bed as soon as possible, for we’ll need all our 
strength tomorrow.” 

Si and Shorty clumsily tried to dissipate the 
Orderly’s premonitions as to his fate, but he would 
not hear any more on the subject, and directed them, 
in his old tones of command, to get things in shape 
for the night and readiness for the morrow — fill up 
the cartridge-boxes, and prepare rations for a big 
breakfast early in the morning, which would be the 
last opportunity to eat until after the momentous 
struggle. 

In this work Si and Shorty soon forgot all about 
the Orderly’s forebodings, and when they had fin- 
ished lay down on their blankets, and were soon fast 
asleep. 

The fateful morning of June 27, 1864, dawned 
bright and warm, a glad contrast to the weeks 


100 


SI KLEGG. 


of rain through which the army had been struggling* 
It seemed an augury of success, and the army needed 
all this to encourage it, for in spite of the dense 
masses of men with which the woods were packed in 
front of the point selected for attack ; in spite of the 
cannon bristling grim and threatening from every 
position from which artillery could be made effec- 
tive ; in spite of the memories of past successes which 
animated the men and their officers, the difficulties 
of the task before them were apparent and appall- 
red clay which seamed the slopes, looked like great 
fort, an impregnable citadel. The great ridges of 
red clay which seamed the slopes, looked like mighty 
walls of solid masonry, against which no force could 
prevail. Before them were deep ditches, even more 
formidable to the assailants, and before these long 
rows of jagged chevaux-de-frise. Before these still 
were hundreds of feet of abatis — trees felled toward 
the enemy, and their tops through which it would 
seem that nothing but a snake or a rabbit could 
make its way. Batteries, forts and bastions broke 
the long line of breastworks into still heavier forti- 
fications, which supplied emplacements for artillery 
to reinforce the infantry fire with canister and 
shrapnel. 

Having finished their breakfast, the 200th Ind. 
piled its blankets and haversacks, and carrying only 
guns, cartridge-boxes and canteens, formed in a 
column of five lines, with a front of two companies. 
Capt. McGillicuddy had command of the front divi- 
sion of two companies, with the Orderly-Sergeant 
in command of Co. Q, and Si, with his squad, aug- 


SI AND SHORTY TAKEN PRISONERS. 


101 


merited by the remaining eight Tennesseeans, held 
the right of the company. 

Before them, sitting with easy grace upon their 
horses, were the Colonel and his Adjutant, who 
calmly scanned the short sweep , of ground, which 
was soon to boil as a cauldron, with the fires of 
death, hate and destruction. 

Si, leaning on his gun, anxiously studied the abatis 
for some indication of possible path through it, and 
watched the rebel regiments swarming down to meet 
the impending attack. 

“Full house over there — the whole family at 
home,” said Shorty laconically, to break the oppres- 
sive silence which ruled over all. “But by the way 
the woods are fillin' up behind us we seem to have 
some friends come to meetin’. There will be a 
scraunch when these two crowds come together.” 

“0, God,” suddenly burst out Basil Peters, in loud, 
impassioned prayer, “be with us, Thy sarvents, this 
day of trial an’ battle. Help us in our need, an’ lend 
us the mouty power o’ Thine arm, for hit is in Thy 
cause that we fout, an’ Thy inimies that we seek ter 
overthrow. Give us the victory, 0, God, that right- 
eousness may dwell in the airth, an’ we may worship 
Thee with glad hearts, for Thine is the power, an' 
the Kingdom, and the glory, forever. Amen.” 

The words had come with startling unexpectedness 
from the lips of a man who had seemed only actuated 
by thoughts of bloody revenge, but they appeared 
forced out of his heart by the agony of mortal 
anxiety. The Colonel and Adjutant in front lifted 
their caps and bowed their heads at the sound of the 
first words, and joined in the chorus of fervent 


102 


SI KLEGG. 


Amen which rolled up reverently from the lips of the 
men. 

“It’s 8:30,” said the Adjutant, looking at his 
watch, and making a note in his book. “We should 
have started a half hour ago.” 

“As usual,” remarked the Colonel, with a shrug 
of his shoulders, “some men will start late, and delay 
everybody else. I wish the signal would come. It 
may be our death-note, but anything is more bear- 
able than this terrible suspense. We are not improv- 
ing our chances by giving the rebels full warning of 
what we intend.” 

There was another long, sickening half-hour of 
waiting, in which few words were spoken, as the 
men leaned on their guns, and shifted nervously 
from one foot to the other, with their intent eyes 
fixed on their officers, or the enemy’s array. 

“There goes the battery in front of Grose. Just 
9 o’clock,” said the Adjutant, making the note in his 
book, and carefully replacing both book and watch 
in his pocket. “The ball opens.” 

“Attention, battalion!” called the sweet, silvery, 
penetrating tones of the Colonel. “Carry, arms! 
Right shoulder shift — arms! Forward — guide cen- 
ter — March !” 

In all Si’s army experience, he had never seen any- 
thing like the storm which burst out at that moment. 
The artillery along the whole of Sherman’s line 
bellowed with a thousand thunders. The whole long 
slope of Kenesaw shook with the roar of the answer- 
ing rebel cannon, and was vailed in the clouds of 
white smoke, with fierce tongues of lurid lightning. 
As the 200th Ind. reached the edge of the abatis the 


SI AND SHORTY TAKEN PRISONERS. 


103 


air was full of a hurtle of musket-balls and canister, 
which tore the limbs of the trees, and sent them 
screeching amidst the charging column. The Colonel's 
horse was mangled into shreds by a shrapnel shell, 
and another took off the head of the Adjutant's 
horse. Covered with blood, both officers leaped to 
their feet, waved their swords, and shouted to the 
men to press on. The next instant the Adjutant fell. 

All semblance of a line was lost in groups strug- 
gling fiercely forward as best they could through the 
abatis, tearing it aside, and breaking it by main 
strength whenever possible, to clear a way. At the 
head of one of these groups raged Si and Shorty, 
who each seemed to have the strength of 10 men as 
they tore off the great limbs, broke branches, and 
strove to open a way, while the bullets and canister 
beat like hail all around. Close behind were the 
Colonel and Capt. McGillicuddy, encouraging and 
praising them and cheering forward those behind. 
Half-way through the abatis the Colonel dropped 
with a gentle groan, heard above the vicious whistle 
of the canister. Si turned and sprang toward him. 

“Go on, go on," commanded the Colonel with a 
wave of his hand. “Don’t mind me. Capt. McGilli- 
cuddy’s in command now. Follow him." 

There was another awful rod of struggle through 
the abatis, and Si and Shorty became dimly conscious 
that the crowd behind them was desperately thin- 
ning. But Basil Peters and several of the Tennes- 
seeans, and as near as they could notice, all of their 
own boys were still with them, working like demons 
to get through. 

They were in sight of the sharp spikes of the 


104 


SI KLEGG. 


chevaux-de-frise, at the further edge of the abatis, 
when blood spurted from Capt. McGillicuddy’s breast 
and he reeled and fell. 

“Go on, go on ! Lead the men on, Sergeant. Don’t 
check for a minute. You can come back for me after 
you’ve got through.” 

“Where’s the Orderly?” said Si, looking around for 
an instant, in a moment’s lull. “He’s in command 
now.” 

“0, the Orderly was killed while you and Shorty 
were lifting that big tree back there,” answered 
Harry Joslyn. “Shot square through the head.” 

“Forward, boygl” shouted Si. “One more long 
pull and we’ll be through. Forward! Forward!” 

He and Shorty made one more supreme effort, and 
were through the abatis and struggling with the 
chevaux-de-frise when a new regiment arriving in 
the rebel works fired a solid, blinding volley, which 
swept everything around them with the besom of 
destruction. They were so near the works that they 
could feel in their faces the hot flash of the guns. 
When the smoke lifted, Si only saw near him Shorty 
and several of his squad, and only Basil Peters, of 
the Tennesseeans. A swift glance to the rear showed 
not a man standing erect in all the wide tangle of 
abatis. Back beyond it were men running to seek 
the shelter of the works in the rear. 

“Shorty, the charge has failed,” said Si, with a 
sinking heart. 

“So it seems,” and we’re in for it,” answered 
Shorty, composedly loading his musket, which he 
had neglected for the work on the abatis. 

“Say, Yanks,” called a voice from the works. 


SI AND SHORTY TAKEN PRISONERS. 


105 


“Drap your guns and surrender. You’re goners. 
We’ve got you dead.” 

“I guess we’ve got to, Shorty,” said Si. “It’d be 
murder an’ not right to the other boys to try to git 
away. They’d git us all before we could go five 
steps.” 

“You’re right,” said Shorty, holding up his hands. 
“We surrender.” 

“I’ll never surrender ter no infernal rebel alive,” 
said Basil Peters, taking deliberate aim at a head 
appearing above the works which he recognized. “I’ll 
die right here, but I’ll take you along with me, Bill 
Perkins, yo’ varmint.” 

He fired and was instantly shot down himself. 

“Now, the rest o’ you all come right along the 
edge o’ the ditch thar, to that ere log that lays acrost 
the ditch, and come inside,” commanded the voice 
inside, and the command was obeyed. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE FIRST DAY OF IMPRISONMENT AND ITS BITTER 
EXPERIENCES. 

T HE terrific roar of battle rapidly subsided as 
soon as it was realized that the assault had 
failed. Neither side had ammunition to waste 
firing at that prodigious rate after the emergency 
had passed. The rebels only kept up their showers 
of bullets and canister until the maimed fragments 
of the columns had regained the shelter of the works, 
and our gunners and infantry desisted as soon as 
the rebels stopped. 

The quieting down at the points of assault was 
followed more slowly by the cessation of the thunder- 
ing along the more remote parts of the line, where 
they had only been “making a demonstration.” 

This gave the rebels immediately in front of Si 
and the remnant of the 200th Ind. opportunity to 
concentrate their attention upon their prisoners. 
Looking across the ditch at the slit under the head- 
logs, Si saw it full of cocked muskets, aimed directly 
at him and his men, and at that short distance every 
bullet would find its mark. 

Si and Shorty were too good soldiers to make fools 
of themselves, especially when their folly would be 
the death of the boys for whom they felt responsible. 
(106) 


THE FIRST DAY OF IMPRISONMENT. 


107 


Therefore, without more than a hasty glance back 
over the abatis, in which so many of his regiment 
were lying dead and wounded, and a longing look at 
the works beyond whither the survivors had run for 
shelter, Si faced to the right and walked along the 
path on the edge of the ditch toward the log which 
crossed it and gave admission to the works. He was 
followed in single file by Shorty, Pete Skidmore, 
Harry Joslyn, Alf Russell, Monty Scruggs, Gid 
Mackall, and Sandy Baker. 

“Come in, Yanks. Glad to see you,” said a tall, 
slender man, dressed in butternut homespun, but of 
better make and fit than the clothing of his com- 
panions. On his collar were the two bars of a Cap- 
tain. “Sergeant, have your men pile your guns and 
things right over there. I see you belong to the 
200th Ind. The 200th Ind. are old acquaintances of 
ours. We’ve been in front of you ever since Stone 
River, but this is the first time that we’ve got any 
of you alive and unwounded. We captured some of 
your wounded at Stone River and again at Chicka- 
mauga.” 

“We never expected to be ketched this way,” said 
Si, ruefully, “but this has bin a mighty unlucky day 
for the regiment — the very worst it ever seen. I’m 
afeared that it’ll never fight you agin. I think nearly 
all of it’s layin’ over there in the brush.” 

“O, no,” said the Captain consolingly. “Lots of 
them got away. Your Color-Sergeant, who is a gal- 
lant fellow, got back with the colors, and I saw a 
large number go with him. He was right behind you 
when he started back. We expected to get your 
colors, and wanted them bad. But when we yelled 


108 


SI KLEGG. 


at you your Sergeant saw his chance and whirled 
and ran back with them, followed by a lot of your 
regiment. We couldn’t shoot, because you were in 
the way, and we couldn’t shoot you when you had 
surrendered.” 

“Well, there’s some consolation, after all,” said Si, 
more cheerfully. “We wasn’t wasted, anyhow, if 
we saved a lot of the boys an’ the colors. I was 
afeared the colors was layin’ back there in the brush 
with a pile o’ dead men around them. I’d rather be 
took myself than have you git our colors.” 

“Fact is,” said a rebel Sergeant, standing near, 
“Cap here, who’j done bin in command o’ the riji- 
mint sence the Cunnel an’ Majah war killed, war 
good-humored, an’ done stopped we’uns’s shootin’, or 
we’uns ’d’ve killed a powerful sight more o’ yo’uns. 
Fact is, we’uns ’d all done got tired o’ shootin’ yo’uns 
down. Hit war too darned easy — jist like a rabbit- 
drive. We’uns didn’t lose a man, an’ yo’uns had no 
more show than wild turkeys in a pen.” 

“Yes,” added the Captain, “old Sherman must’ve 
had one of his crazy fits again when he jammed you 
up against such works as we have here. We couldn’t 
be fixed better to receive you. I haven’t lost a man. 
Sherman must certainly be crazy.” 

“Well,” said Shorty, irritated by their elation over 
their victory, “for a crazy man he gets away with 
your smart man Johnston in great shape right along. 
He’s skinned him out o’ nearly the whole o’ north 
Georgia, an’ we’ve bin grabbin’ about a County a 
day away from you, in spite o’ your mountains an’ 
your big forts, an’ your dumbed abatis. We’ve 
hunted you out o’ your holes like a lot o’ woodchucks, 


THE FIRST DAY OF IMPRISONMENT. 


109 


an’ Sherman ’ll keep it up till he runs you into the 
Atlantic Ocean. He’s just crazy enough to waltz all 
around you every day in the week.” 

“0, Johnston’s just drawing Sherman on,” said 
the Captain. “He’s just drawing him back like the 
Russians did Napoleon at Moscow. Every time we 
fall back we get stronger, and Sherman gets weaker. 
When we start back at him we’ll grind him to pieces, 
and it will be a dead run to the Ohio River, and 
mighty few of his men will ever get there. You’re 
lucky to be taken in before the rush begins. All of 
Sherman’s army that’s left alive will soon join you.” 

“Drawin’ us on,” said Si hotly. “Yes, you’re 
drawin’ us on just like you was doin’ at Tullyhomy 
and Chattanoogy. You thought you was goin’ to 
smash us at Chickamaugy, with all the help you 
could git from Lee’s army an’ the prisoners we 
paroled at Vicksburg. You’re drawin’ us on just 
like you drawed us on at Mission Ridge. Just like 
you drawed us on at Buzzard Roost. You put me in 
mind of a man out on the Wabash who thought he’d 
break a steer calf to the yoke. He put the calf’s 
neck into one bow, an’ his own into the other. He 
said afterward that the calf hadn’t made more’n two 
jumps before he knowed that he’d made a mistake, 
and as they went tearin’ down the road he was 
yellin’, ‘Stop us; somebody stop us, for the Lord’s 
sake, before we break our dumb fool necks.’ ” 

“Yes,” echoed Shorty, “you’re drawin’ us on like 
the man brought the bear into camp.” 

The downcast boys began to perk up when they 
saw the confident front that Si and Shorty presented 
to their enemies. 


110 


SI KLEGG. 


“Well, you’re good stuff,” laughed the Captain. 
“Sergeant, take them to the rear, and find them 
something to eat. I expect they are very hungry. 
Treat them well, for they are brave men.” 

“Thank you, Captain,” said Si, saluting. “Here’s 
hopin’ we may have the pleasure of taking you 
prisoner some day, and returning the compliment.” 

For the moment curiosity overpowered every other 
emotion in Si’s mind as he was being taken to the 
rear of the rebel army. Here, at last, he was in 
the very midst of the enemies with whom he had 
been battling for two long years, and could see them 
at home. How velry like, and yet how very unlike it 
all was to our army. There were the same great 
masses of men in regiments, brigades, and divisions, 
the same imposing array of artillery, the same great 
herds of animals, countless horses and wagons, the 
same incessant movements of teams and men; yet 
it all seemed a crude, almost barbarous imitation of 
the Union army. The wagons were generally 
clumsy affairs, which would not have been tolerated 
on Deacon Klegg’s farm, and the animals such as 
he would not have wasted his time raising. Some 
of the artillery was drawn by oxen, which ex- 
cited Si’s and Shorty’s risibles. Occasionally an 
officer was seen in a stylish uniform, but, dirty and 
shabby as the Union uniforms had seemed, the 
dingy, ragged, patched butternut in which the rebels 
were clothed seemed infinitely shabbier and dirtier. 
Only the guns were comparable with those of the 
Union army. The muskets were excellent Enfields, 
and the piles of boxes of bright new ammunition 


THE FIRST DAY OF IMPRISONMENT. 


Ill 


that they passed bore English marks. The cannon 
also seemed of the same quality as our own. 

“Stop here,” said the Sergeant, whose name was 
Smoots, halting them some distance back. “I’ll git 
yo’uns some grub from our Commissary. Yo’uns 
had better make the most of hit, for yo’uns won’t be 
likely ter fare very well when yo’uns git back thar 
among them Jawgy Preserves. They’uns’s the 
measliest lot o’ scalawags that ever et clay, an’ hain’t 
no sort o’ sense about sojerin’. Yo’uns want ter 
hide everything from ’em, fer they’uns ’ll rob yo’uns 
of everything they kin grab. Look out fur ’em every 
minnit.” 

Sergeant Smoots presently returned with a “poke” 
containing about a peck of cornmeal and a side of 
meat, which he handed to Si, remarking: 

“Thar, you’d better keep all o’ that, an’ take mouty 
good ker of hit, fer grub’s likely ter be skeerce with 
yo’uns fer awhile. Stay right here an’ cook your 
vittels; I’ve spoke ter the Provost Sargint, who’s 
standin’ right over thar, an’ turned yo’uns over ter 
him. Yo’uns can’t git away, so you needn’t waste 
time a-tryin’. When the Sargint gits orders ter move 
he’ll gether yo’uns in. I want ter do all I kin fer 
yo’uns, kase yo’uns captured my brother an’ a lot o’ 
our boys at Tullyhomy, an’ yo’uns treated ’em mouty 
white. But I must git bak ter the rijimint. Good 
day.” 

“Purty white man, that, fur a rebel,” said Si, as 
he began examining the provisions. “This looks like 
tolerable grub for hungry men, but how are we goin’ 
to cook it? We hain’t so much as a tin cup with us. 
Wonder where we kin get some pans or something?” 


112 


SI KLEGG. 


The man who had been indicated as the Provost 
Sergeant strolled by and gave them a savagely crit- 
ical look. 

“Here, Sergeant,” said Si, appealingly to him, 
“what’re we goin’ to cook our rations in? Can’t you 
give us pans and kittles?” 

“Cook your grub as you please,” said the Sergeant 
sourly. “You infernal Yankees orter be mouty glad 
ter git grub at all. If I had my way you’d git blamed 
little.” 

“But we can’t eat this stuff raw, Sergeant,” ex- 
postulated Si, beginning to feel for the first time the 
keenness of the situation. “We hain’t nothin’ with 
us. We had to pile all our things when we started 
on the charge.” 

“Serves you right for startin’ on the charge,” said 
the Sergeant with an oath. “What are yo’uns down 
heah fightin’ we’uns for, anyhow? Hit’s God’s 
mercy that you wasn’t killed on the charge with the 
rest of ’em, as you’uns orter’ve bin. Eat your grub 
raw, an’ be blamed glad you’ve got hit ter eat. Better 
men than you have had ter do hit.” 

“Nice way, that, to talk to prisoners, you bomb- 
proofer,” said Shorty scornfully. “I’ll bet my head 
you never was in a fight in your life.” 

“Shet up, or I’ll break yer Yankee jaw,” said the 
Sergeant, striding up menacingly. 

“You will, will you?” responded Shorty, putting 
himself in a posture of defense. “Just try that little 
game, won’t you? Just balance up to me, sonny. 
Here’s that says I kin knock that rebel head offen you 
with neatness and dispatch. You’re one o’ them 
fellers that said one rebel could whip six Yankees, 


THE FIRST DAY OF IMPRISONMENT. 


113 


I s’pose. Just tackle this one, if you want to be 
measured for an early grave an’ a military funeral. 
Don’t be modest, bub. Come forward to the mourn- 
er’s bench.” 

The Sergeant was evidently not popular with the 
crowd of rebel soldiers who flocked around, at- 
tracted by the noise of the dispute. They jeered at 
him, and urged him to accept Shorty’s invitation. 

“Sail into him, Buck,” they yelled. “Sail in. 
You’re so fond o’ knockin’ sick an’ drunk prisoners 
aroun’. Thar’s one that wants yo’ ter knock him. 
He’s plumb sassy about it. Jump him. Knock the 
stuffin’ out o’ the Yankee.” 

But there was something in the knowing way that 
Shorty moved his ponderous fists that discouraged 
the Sergeant. 

“Here, you stragglin’ hounds,” he said savagely 
to the crowd around him, “what air yo’uns doin’ 
away from yo’ camps? Git back ter yo’ rijimints, 
afore I chuck every one o’ yo’ in the gyardhouse. 
Skip, now, or I’ll call out the gyard, and arrest every 
last one o’ you.” 

The crowd scattered, and turning to the prisoners, 
the Sergeant said: 

“Heah, yo’ Yanks, yo’re layin’* out heah too fur. 
Pick up an’ move up ter whar them other prisoners 
air, an’ do hit right smart. Git, now, or I’ll done 
help yo’ in a way yo’ won’t like.” 

Repressing himself with an effort from hot 
words of resentment, which leaped to his lips, Si 
picked up his poke of meal and side of bacon, and 
moved up the hill, to where some hundreds of other 
prisoners captured in the assault were collected. 


114 


SI KLEGG. 


More were brought in in small squads. As each came 
up it was eagerly scanned by those already there, for 
acquaintances, and the new arrivals as eagerly 
looked through the crowd for missing ones. There 
were many happy recognitions of comrades who were 
feared to have been killed, much delighted hand- 
shakings, and such tears of joy over escapes of dear 
friends from what seemed to be certain death, that 
for the moment the gloom of capture was illuminated 
by the joy of having passed scatheless through such 
mortal peril. 

Si took the opportunity of looking over his squad 
to see how they had passed through the fiery ordeal. 
His and Shorty’s face and hands were covered with 
blood, now drying to crusts. It was the same with 
the other boys. Careful examination revealed, how- 
ever, that nobody had received any serious hurts. 
Their struggles with the abatis were responsible for 
many deep gashes on their faces and hands. Twigs 
and splinters torn from the trees and driven with 
stinging force against them were the cause of others, 
and they all felt as raw and inflamed as if beaten 
with many stripes. A bullet had clipped off a bit 
of Pete Skidmore’s ear, a piece of shell had torn out 
a bit of Harry Jo'slyn’s pantaloons, a canister-ball 
had raised a welt on Gid Mackall’s thigh, and each 
one of them seemed to have been grazed somewhere 
by the storm of missiles, yet none had received what 
would be regarded as an actual wound. But how sore 
every one felt as the excitement subsided, and their 
blood cooled. 

“I feel worse’n if the teacher’ d bin hickorying me 
for a straight hour,” murmured little Pete, with 


THE FIRST DAY OF IMPRISONMENT. 


115 


tears in his eyes, as he felt all over himself gingerly. 
“Every spot on me, from head to foot, feels sore’n a 
bile.” 

“So do I,” echoed the rest. 

“Well,” said Si, reverently, “let us thank God that 
we escaped as well as we did. God Himself must 
have protected us, or we’d never got through, as so 
many of our boys are now layin’ over there in the 
brush lookin’ up at the angels. We’re prisoners, to 
be sure, but it might have bin worse. Let’s make 
the best of it. We’ll git out o’ this somehow, just as 
we got out o’ the other. There’ll be some chance to 
git away, or else Uncle Billy’ll come along presently 
an’ let us out.” 

“The rebels’ll have to be a heap sight smarter’n 
I’ve ever knowed any man that wore butternut to be 
if they keep us a week,” said Shorty. “Chirk up, 
boys. We’ll find some way to git out o’ this scrap 
before we’re a week older, or my name ain’t Shorty. 
Come, Pete, let’s go over to that branch there and 
wash up. We’ll feel better then.” 

The others did the same. The water at once re- 
vived them, and made their hurts smart more 
keenly. And they became at once exceedingly 
hungry. 

“How in the name o’ sin are we goin’ to cook this 
blamed stuff?” Si asked Shorty, looking at his poke 
of meal and side of meat with puzzled eyes, as the 
boys mentioned their raving appetite. “The boys 
can’t eat this meal raw. It’d likely kill ’em with the 
colic if they did.” 

“I noticed some o’ ’em over there,” said Shorty, 
“baking their meal hoe-cake style on pieces o’ sheet- 


116 


SI KLEGG. 


iron and chips set up before the fire. I think some 
o’ them smooth flat stones over there will be just 
the things. Pete, go over there to the branch an’ 
pick up some o’ them flat rocks and wash the dirt 
offen ’em. I’ll look around for something to mix the 
dough in.” 

Across the branch he noticed an old buckeye 
sugar-trough, which some teamster had used for his 
feed-trough. Some others had seen it and its avail- 
ability at the same time, and made a rush for it, but 
Shorty’s long legs gained the prize. He took it to 
the branch, washed it out, and brought it back with 
some water in it with which to mix the dough. 

'‘What are we goin’ to do for salt?” asked Si, as 
he whittled out a paddle with which to do the mixing. 

“We’ll have to do without till I kin beg, buy or 
steal some,” said Shorty. “Mix her up. I’m hungry 
enough to eat the meal raw. The necessaries o’ life 
we must have; the luxuries we kin do without. Salt’s 
a luxury, just now.” 

Si mixed up the dough and spread it upon the flat 
thin stones, each about the size of a large-sized din- 
ner plate, and one for each boy. 

“That idee o’ your’n about these shell-rocks, 
Shorty, was a great one,” said Si, as he finished. 
“They’ll do very nicely. I don’t know how we’d’ve 
got along without ’em. Now, boys, each o’ you take 
one o’ these and prop it carefully before the fire, 
where the heat’ll strike it fair, and keep it there till 
the crust is done brown, and then scrape it off and 
turn the other side and bake it, and you’ll have a 
nice hoe-cake.” 

They did as directed, and each one sat behind his 


THE FIRST DAY OF IMPRISONMENT. 


117 


stone watching with hungry eagerness the effect of 
the heat upon it. The first flush of brown was just 
appearing when crack, crack! went each of the 



CRACK WENT THE STONES. 


stones, with a sharp report, as they flew into pieces, 
scattering the dough upon them into the fire and all 
around. 

“Confound it, Shorty,” said Si, with the irritating 


118 


SI KLEGG. 


injustice of a hungry man, as he fished some portions 
of the dough out of the fire, “you ought to’ve knowed 
that them wet rocks Would bust just as soon’s they 
got hot. You and Thompson’s colt must’ve bin 
twins.” 

“Shet your gab,” said Shorty, with equal irrita- 
tion, as he also fished out such dough as he could 
recover, and fixed little balls of it on twigs, to hold 
over the coals. “Who are you slurring at? You 
didn’t know no more about it than I did.” 

With their bread baked in this way, and meat 
broiled on the end of sticks, they made their first 
meal inside the rebd lines. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 

4<T? ALL in, all you Yanks, an’ git aboard that 
train thar,” shouted the rebel Provost Ser- 
geant, as the boys were swallowing their 
balls of scorched corn dough and pieces of meat. 

In obedience to the command, the men farther off 
on the right began moving down toward the train, 
about which was mustered a regiment of “Georgia 
Militia,’' or “Reserves,” to guard them back to 
Atlanta and Andersonville. 

The appearance of these was the most astonishing 
to Si of anything that he had yet seen in the rebel 
army. Dirty, ragged and tattered as scarecrows as 
the regular rebel soldiers seemed, there was yet 
something soldierly about them, especially when seen 
in line and in masses. They were well-drilled, they 
handled their guns as if familiar with them, and they 
moved about with alertness and precision. If there 
was a difference, the Reserves were much better 
dressed. They had but recently come out, and their 
dingy, uncouth, home-made garments were in much 
better repair. They were of all ages and sizes, from 
the tall, bent form, with whitening hair and seamed, 
wrinkled face of the grandfather, to the slouching, 
ill-knit, gangling grandson, with his vacant face and 
staring, goggle eyes. The gray-haired men were 
( 119 ) 


120 


SI KLEGG. 


plentiful, but far more numerous were the boys of 
16 and under, who leaned on their guns and stared 
with eyes and mouths wide open on the prisoners, the 
first they had seen. There was both wonder and 
fear in their looks. These were “the Yankees/’ of 
whom they had been hearing ever since they could 
remember — the wild, ferocious, cunning, cowardly, 
merciless, tricky, savage monsters, with all sorts of 
vile tastes and propensities, stories of whom had 
filled their minds to the exclusion of tales of Indians, 
catamounts, bears, “painters,” hoopsnakes, and 
other “sarpints,” ypon traditions of which their 
fathers and grandfathers had been reared. 

Two or three of the bolder of them had left their 
company, and timorously ventured down to where 
they could devour Si and his squad with their eyes, 
at close range. 

“Say, bub, got any terbacker that you’ll” — began 
Shorty, stepping out toward them in a friendly way ; 
but he was interrupted by a wild yell of fear from 
the boys, who scudded back to where they had left 
their guns, snatched them up, and leveled them 
offensively and defensively. 

Rebel soldiers standing near laughed uproariously. 

“Say, boys,” shouted one. “Don’t be skeered outen 
a year’s growth. Them Yanks is tame. They’uns 
won’t hurt yo’uns. Hit’s only wild ones, like them 
out in front, as is dangersome. They hain’t no 
horns. Go up and talk to ’em. They’uns won’t bite 
you. See here.” 

He walked up to Shorty and said : 

“Say, Yank, that head kivern’ is too good fer a 
Yank. Reckon I’ll trade with you, fer I sho’ly need 
a better one than I’ve got.” 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 


121 


When they had started, Shorty had with provident 
forethought picked up the sugar trough, thinking 
that he might have future use for it. He was so 
cumbered with this that the rebel succeeded in get- 
ting away with his hat before he could drop the 
trough and strike him. The rebel disappeared in 
the laughing crowd, who thought it a good joke. 
Shorty swore a blue streak, but his hat was gone. 



"i'll done give this hat o' mine an' a half- 
plug O' TERBACKER TO BOOT." 

This was a signal for the other rebel soldiers, hang- 
ing around, and soon every hat in the squad was 
gone. 

One of the more honestly-disposed had said to Si : 
“Say, Yank, you're a-gwine ter lose yer hat, any- 
how. Yer kaint git ter keep hit long, nowhow, so 
y’d better swap with me now. I’ll done gin this hyah 
one o’ mine, an’ a half-plug o’ terbacker ter boot.’’ 
He produced the tobacco, and held out his hat, 


122 


SI KLEGG. 


while Si kept a firm hold of his own. Si looked 
curiously and somewhat disdainfully at that of the 
rebel. It was a heavy, excessively clumsy affair, 
made by sewing together tufts of the long-leaved 
pine. 

"Looks like a cross between a door-mat an’ a hay- 
cock, ’’ said Si, "but I expect I’d better trade, as I 
want the terbacker. Here, take it.” 

The sun was pouring down burning rays, and see- 
ing Si set the example, Harry Joslyn picked up an- 
other pine leaf hat which had been thrown at his 
feet, and after beating it on the ground to dislodge 
any occupants, put^t on. Gid Mackall and Monty 
Scruggs did the same. 

"Blamed if I'm goin’ to put on any o' their dirty 
rags,” said Shorty, turning the sugar-trough over 
and putting it on his head. "I never saw one o’ their 
hats yit that I’d more’n tetch with the pint o' my 
bayonet. I'm goin’ to make this do until I git some- 
thing better.” 

As they drew nearer the train, Si looked over the 
reserves more carefully. He found a number of 
middle-aged men among them, who had so far 
escaped conscription. Some had but one eye; some 
were manifestly very hard of hearing ; some wheezed 
with the asthma ; some halted badly in their steps. 

"What's this we’ve struck?” Shorty inquired from 
beneath his sugar-trough. "Is this the emptyin’s 
of the rebel asylum for orphans and idiots, the home 
for incurables an’ the old men’s wards of the poor- 
houses ?” 

"It certainly looks like it,” answered Si. "And 
them officers look like Township Trustees, come out 
on parade with the lame and halt paupers. And see 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 


123 


them guns. They're young cannon, mounted on 
handspikes for stocks.” 

The ancient guns with which the Georgia Reserves 
were armed were old “Queen Anne muskets” that had 
been furnished the Colony in the French and Indian 
wars, and since preserved in the Georgia armory, 
where, after being altered to percussion locks, they 
were issued in 1864 to the “Goober Militia.” They 
had an enormous bore ; were very rough and clumsy 
in construction, and the boys and weaker men bent 
under their weight. 

The bellowing report of one of the guns a little 
farther up the line attracted all attention. One of 
the Reserves, a loose-jointed, gawky boy, with an 
evil, lowering look, had been inspired by the example 
of the rebel veterans, to run down to the line and 
snatch a fine hat from the head of an Ohio soldier, 
who ran shouting after him, trying to recover it. 
The boy sprang to his gun, snatched- it up, whirled 
and fired with incredible swiftness. The heavy 
charge tore through the Ohio's boy's breast, and he 
fell a bloody corpse. The Reserves ran to their guns, 
and it looked for an instant as if they would open an 
indiscriminate fusillade upon the prisoners. The 
Colonel of the Reserves, a large, pompous man, with 
a bull-like voice, shouted : 

“Hold on, thar, men. Don’t shoot no more onless 
they make a rush, or you git ordehs. That thar man 
got jest what he desarved, but don't shoot no more 
onless hit’s needed. Let that be a lesson to 'em, 
which mebbe they'll heed. You Yanks stand right 
whar you air. Don’t you move a step till I gin the 
ordeh, or I'll mallaroo you offen the face o' the 
airth.” 


124 


SI KLEGG. 


In the impotence of his rage Shorty swore himself 
hoarse, and made all manner of imprecations and 
threats against the Colonel and the murdering boy. 

“I’m goin’ to wipe every other name off my 
scoundrel-book, except them two,” he yelled. ‘Til 
foller them as long as I live till I kill both of 'em, the 
murderin' villains.” 

Si said less, but he meant quite as much. The 
order came for them to march down and get on the 
cars. These were the cars in which cattle had been 
hauled up to Johnston's Army, and were indescrib- 
ably filthy. Si glared at them, and momentarily 
hesitated to get in, but the Reserves were closing 
down, and he divined what refusal might mean to 
him and the rest. 

“Captain Smoots,” roared Colonel Tate, of the 
Reserves, “you’ll take charge o’ the rear end o’ the 
train with your company. I'll hold you responsible 
fer the last three kyars. Put four o’ your men at 
:he door of each kyar, and the rest on top. Don't 
stand no foolishness from them Yanks. You got 
guns and bayonets, and you knows what they’re fer. 
Don't stand a minut’s foolishness from ary one o’ 
them whelps. Ef he gives you any lip, or don’t mind 
your ordehs, or makes a motion ter git away, sock 
a bayonet into him, or give him a load o’ buckshot, 
and quiet him. They all oughter be killed. Hit’s a 
mercy that we let any of them live at all.” 

“Listen to the bomb-proofer beller,” snapped 
Shorty. “These are the first Yankees he’s ever seen.” 

“Shet yer mouth an’ git inter the kyar, afore I 
blow yer head off,” said Captain Smoots, putting his 
hand on his big pepper-box revolver. 

Handing their things to the other boys to hold, Si 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 


125 


and Shorty picked up an old tie on which to sit, and 
climbed into the car with it. They wanted to place it 
across the car, so that they could look out of the 
door, but were compelled to put it lengthwise, and 
they so arranged it that they could lean back against 
the side of the car. Other prisoners were crowded in 
as long as there seemed standing room. Finally 
four guards got in, looking very nervous and 
excited at their close companionship with the 
Yankees, but being assured that they had a 
strong reinforcement, should anything happen, 
in the squads, mounted to the roof and lay down 
there. Captain Smoots walked up and down, super- 
intending the car, in compliance with orders bawled 
by Colonel Tate, and adding his own loud voice to the 
din. He was a red-faced, fussy, important man, and 
clearly felt that this was the biggest job that had 
ever been given him. His homespun coat, orna- 
mented with big horn buttons, was buttoned to his 
chin, in severely military style, and beside the big 
pepper-box revolver in a holster on his belt, he had an 
old-fashioned broad-bladed sword, with a fancy, 
curved hilt, such as had been worn earlier in the 
century by an officer of the militia. He was pers- 
piring freely, from the heat of the day, added to his 
boiling feeling of importance, and in the intervals 
between issuing his orders he mopped his blazing 
face with a large, yellow bandanna. When he had 
gotten all in, he wanted to climb to the top of the car, 
but that was too nimble a task for his girth and still- 
ness. He decided to get into the car where Si and 
Shorty were, so called a negro, who piled up ties to 
make steps, and placed a box inside the car for him 
to sit on. Then the Captain got in, glared around 


126 


SI KLEGG. 


with official severity, to impress every one that he 
was not to be trifled with for an instant, and seated 
himself stiffly, with one hand on the hilt of his 
antique sword and the other on the handle of his 
almost as antique revolver. 

The train pulled out, and Si and Shorty craned 
their necks to get a view of the country, and what 
further obstacles the army was likely to encounter 
in its advance upon Atlanta. But Captain Smoots 
sternly ordered them back to their places, and made 
those standing near turn their faces inward. 

“Hain’t a-gwine ter have you spyin’ out the ken- 
try fer your army, *an’ sendin’ the news back,” he 
said. “You Yanks is jest too sneakin’ cunnin’ ter 
live. Mebbe some o’ you done got tuck a purpose ter 
have a chanst ter spy out the land fer ole Sherman — 
rot ’im. He’s the meanest white man alive — ef he 
is white, which I misdoubt. Staid down in Loozyany 
’mong us till he got all the infermation he could an’ 
then sneaked off an’ jined the Yankees.” 

A shot, followed by a scattering fusillade, rang 
out from the top of a forward car, and produced 
great excitement. The train was passing through 
a shallow cut, where the brush came close to the edge 
of the bank. A daring man had made a bold dash 
for liberty by suddenly jumping past the guard and 
up on to the bank. But there he was caught by a 
charge of buckshot from one of the guards on the 
roof, and fell, while the others emptied their guns at 
him. As the train ran on his mangled body could be 
plainly seen from the car. This had a deterring 
effect upon Si and Shorty, who had been contem- 
plating, when the train should pass near the woods, 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 


127 


making a rush, toppling over the Captain and his 
guards, and getting into the cover of the brush. 

“Them spavined idiots mayn’t know anything 
else,” Shorty whispered to Si, “but they kin shoot, 
an’ are mighty quick on the trigger. Guess we’ll 
have to give it up. Even if we could git away, they’ll 
kill some o’ the boys.” 

The train pounded on monotonously for hours; 
there was no further incident ; the day was broiling 
hot ; the stench was stifling, and the Captain’s 
dignity began to sit heavily upon him. He relaxed 
his grip on his sword-hilt in order to ply his ban- 
danna, and then let go the handle of his revolver. 
Presently his fat, coarse face showed unmistakable 
signs of general tiredness with the whole business. 
Nobody had spoken a word for a long time or done 
anything to call forth stern warnings. Si thought 
he would open up a conversation, and something 
might develop. 

“Mighty hot day, Captain, an’ guard dooty’s hard 
work,” he ventured in a friendly tone. 

The Captain started, scowled for a moment at the 
thought of a possible derogation to his dignity in 
having a neighborly remark addressed to him by a 
prisoner, and then answered curtly : 

“Silence in the coaht.” Then, remembering him- 
self, he added : “Who gave you lief, sah, ter speak 
ter me?” 

“Nobody,” Si answered pleasantly. “My tongue 
got tired layin’ on one side, an’ I thought I’d turn it 
over. I heard them call you Captain Smoots. We 
have a Judge Smoots up in our country.” 

“A Judge, did you say?” said the Captain, a little 


128 


SI KLEGG. 


mollified. “Probably some kin. The Smoots all take 
nacherully ter the law.” 

“You resemble him,” continued Si. “I noticed it 
when I first seen you. Are you on the bench?” 

“Fve done bin Justice o’ the Peace an’ Magistrate 
o’ the Oconee District for 11 years hand-runnhT 
now,” answered the Captain, swelling up. “One o’ 
my Constables is with me as Fust Lootenant, an’ 
Pother is Second Lootenant. If I live through this 
war I expect to be Ordinary o’ my County.” 

“0, you’ll live,” Si assured him. “You ain’t the 
kind to die or git killed (when thar’s a big office in 
sight) ,” he added under his breath. 

“0, he’ll live,” echoed Shorty, sotto voce. “Unless 
he breaks a blood vessel running away from our 
cavalry.” 

“Your voice reminds me o’ Judge Smoot’s,” pur- 
• sued Si. “Now, the Judge” 

“A great many call me Judge,” interrupted the 
Captain, “though I’m not really entitled to hit till I’m 
an Ordinary, or what some folks calls a Probate 
Judge. But I’ve bin so long a Magistrate, and 
decided so many important cases, that I’m often 
called Judge. I’ve had afore me some o’ the 
weightiest cases that ever come up in Jawgy. I’ve 
tried two men that was afterwards hung. I’ve” 

He stopped, looked around him and rose. He saw 
an audience larger than he had ever addressed, and 
one which could not get away from him. He could 
get off his favorite speech where it would do the 
most good, by impressing alien enemies with the 
greatness and intelligence of Georgia and her people. 
He inflated his chest, and put on the most judicial 
air. 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 


129 


• “I tell you,” he began, pompously, and then hesi- 
tated, as for the next word. His auditors were not 
fellow-citizens, and he would not dignify them by 
calling them gentlemen. He got out of the dilemma 
by fixing his eye on Si, as if he was a prisoner at the 
bar, and beginning again: 

“I tell you, sah, the State o’ Jawgy’s the greatest 
State in the universe, sah. Hit’s the largest State 
in our glorious Southland, except Texas, which is 
mostly cactus desert, an’ has mo’ happier, intelli- 
gentier people, sah, nor ary other on airth. Hit’s 
people air brave men and beautiful women, an’ they 
air now foutin’ with glorious courage a great war 
agin the swarmin’ hordes of wicked an’ merciless 
depotism, which is tryin’ ter reduce us ter slavery — 
make niggers of we’uns. But the people of Jawgy 
air too brave an’ free ter ever be conquered. They’re 
the gran’est people on airth, sah. They have the best 
Gov’ment an’ the best laws, an’ the wisest an’ best 
Judges. The Jawgy judiciary has no equals any- 

whar. I as a member of hit kin say” 

He hesitated for breath and words and Si put in : 
“That’s jest what I was thinkin’ about you. I 
know you understand the law, an’ that you’re a first- 
class ’Squire (“that is,” he saved his conscience, a 
reservation under his breath, “you’re first-class for 
a country that thinks such as you first-class) .” 

“That’s equal to saying, that he’s respectable for 
hell,” inwardly commented Shorty. 

“An’ knowin’ you know the law,” continued Si, 
“I wanted your honest opinion of sich a cold-blooded 
murder as that back there of that boy who was try- 
in’ to git his stolen hat. Ain’t that something that 
5 


130 


SI KLEGG. 


Injuns orter to be ashamed of? Is there anything, 
in military law, or any other kind” 

The Captain’s red face grew purple as he gathered 
Si’s meaning, conveyed in words that had sounded 
so fair at first. He clutched the hilt of his sword 
and stood up, and gasped for a moment for words 
severe enough. 

“You onhung villain,” he shouted; “you come 
down heah ter murder our people, an’ then abuse 
an’ slander ’em. You hain’t no right ter speak ter 
me that way or at all. Hit’s contempt o’ coaht an’ 
agin military discipline. That air man wuz right- 
fully shot. He desarved hit. Hit wuz a case o’ self- 
defense, as plain as I ever seed. The Yankee wuz 
attackin’ the boy — hit wuz criminal assault, an’ the 
boy shot ter defend hisself. I’d a’ cleared him in a 
minnit if hit’d come afore my coaht. Set back thar 
in youh place, an’ don’t you dar open youh sassy 
head agin, or I’ll split hit with my swo’d.” 

“Another name for my scoundrel-book,” muttered 
Shorty. “That makes three blue ribboners — first 
prizes — that I’ve got to settle with.” 

Si, having had his say, leaned back against the 
car, and remained silent. 

The Captain sank back upon his box and glared 
awhile at Si. Then his eyes traveled down to Si’s 
feet, and an idea struck him. “Put out yo’ foot,” he 
ordered. Si had only drawn shoes the day before. 
Si knew what was coming, but there was no help 
for it. He extended his foot. 

“Them’s mouty good shoes you got on, an’ they’re 
jest my size. You hain’t no right to sich good shoes, 
when better men than you, who air foutin’ fer their 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 


131 


kentry, have ter go barefooted. Take ’em off an’ 
give ’em ter me.” 

Si hesitated a moment, but he saw the folly of 
resistance. The guards handled their guns as if 
ready to use them at the least sign of resistance. 
With a wry face he untied his shoes and handed them 
over. 

“That gives me an idee,” said the Captain. The 
train had stopped on a switch. “I kin pervide my 
whole company with good shoes. Lootenant Bets, 
Lootenant Bets,” he called. 

“Here I am. What’s wanted, ’Squire — I mean, 
Captain,” answered the ex-Constable, coming up. 

“I command you, in the name o’ the State o’ 
Jawgy,” said the Captain, forgetting the officer in 
the ’Squire, “to take a sufficient posse o’ men an’ go 
through these kyars and seize, impress, distrain and 
replevin all sich good an’ suitable shoes as you may 
find on the prisoners there confined, for the use an’ 
benefit o’ the men o’ this company, an’ fer so doin’ 
this order shall be your warrant. Fail not on your 
peril.” 

“All right, ’Squire; I’ll make return o’ the goods 
an’ chattels ter you, right off,” answered the Lieu- 
tenant. 

“You remind me more o’ Judge Smoots every 
minnit,” Si could not forbear saying. “He’s the 
meanest, orneriest, rum-suckin’ politician in our 
whole County, and never was Judge o’ anything but 
whisky and hoss races.” 

The Captain looked as if he would murder him, 
but Si felt that fate had done its worst in taking 
away his shoes. 

The train rolled on, and finally came to Atlanta, 


132 


SI KLEGG. 


but the most the boys could see of the great objective 
of Sherman’s Army was a wide spread of railroad 
switches, incumbered with freight trains carrying 
supplies to Johnston’s army; other trains carrying 
men to the front, or bringing wounded back, and a 
row of dismantled locomotives, from which pieces 
were taken daily to supply those broken upon the 
engines still in active service. The train stopped 
there awhile, and then rumbled on. 

An hour or two south of Atlanta the train had to 
stop at a bridge which our cavalry had destroyed. 
The hasty structure which replaced it was still in 
shaky condition, and it was decided to wait a little 
until the workmen could strengthen it so as to risk 
the engine upon it. The prisoners would be taken 
out, and the cars pushed by hand. After the prison- 
ers marched across to the other bank, and while 
waiting for completion of the work, they; built little 
fires, and began trying to cook what scanty rations 
they had to appease their raging hunger. Our cav- 
alry had thrown a freight train from the track, and 
partially burned it. An expedient occurred to the 
ingenious Sandy Baker. He held a strip of the tin 
roof over the fire until the solder at the joints was 
melted, and thus supplied each one of the squad with 
a sheet-iron plate upon which to bake his bread. 
With a spike for a chisel and a bolt for a hammer, 
he turned up other pieces into pans. The Reserves 
had by this time become somewhat accustomed to 
the presence of the Yankees, and not so nervous, so 
they allowed Shorty to go down to the creek, under 
close guard, where he washed out his trough, and 
came back with enough water in it to mix the meal. 
The boys all got satisfactory hoe-cakes, which they 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 133 

sopped in the grease fried out in one of Sandy 
Baker’s pans, and made a better meal than they had 
expected. Shorty, finding his bare feet hurt by the 
stones and the prickly pear which abounded on the 
banks of the creek, made a virtue of necessity, and 
picked up a pair of old shoes thrown aside by one 
who had been benefited by Captain Smoot’s confisca- 
tion. They were badly dilapidated, and the soles 
were coming apart, but Shorty bound them together 
with strips of paw-paw bark until they would stay 
on. While the boys were eating, and Captain Smoots 
was standing in rigid superintendence of the crowd, 
Colonel Tate strolled up, and after complimenting 
the Captain upon his success in getting the prisoners 
so far, remarked in a gossipy way: 

'‘They tell me, Captain, that you’ve done sold your 
boy Bounce?” 

“Yes,” answered the Captain; “niggers is resky 
property jest now, an’ Bounce is a resky nigger. 
He’s young an’ a tolluble hand, but thar’s no tellin’ 
what night he mout take hit inter his head ter walk 
over ter Sherman or f oiler off the Yankee cavalry. 
So I let Nate Shrawn have him fur a mere nothin’, 
so ter speak — $500 in money, a yok o’ likely steers, 
a fresh cow, and his ole mare. I don’t know as I’ve 
bettered myself much, fo’ the $500 won’t buy a heap 
nowdays, an’ the Confedrit Gover’mint is likely ter 
impress the cattle fer Johnston’s army. But I didn’t 
like the look I sometimes seed in Bounce’s eyes, an’ 
I thought I mout as well git something fer him while 
I could. Let Nate lay awake nights now, thinkin’ 
’bout him, I’m done tired of hit. Nate done seed me 
in Atlanty, an’ gin me the money, so hit’s a sale.” 

“I reckon you’ve done made a good bargain, Cap- 


134 


SI KLEGG. 


tain/’ answered the Colonel. “Niggers is a good 
thing ter git shet of now, if yo’ kin git anything at 
all fo’ them. They’re ’bout the onlikeliest property 
that a man kin have, an’ are gittin’ onlikelier every 
day. If we can’t drive Sherman back they won’t be 
wuth nothin’ at all. Your cattle yo’ kin hide from 
the impressin’ agent, especially if yo’ don’t let 
nobody know yo’ have ’em. That’s probably what 
made Nate willin’ ter trade. Everybody knowed he 
had ’em. He kin take Bounce down inter the coun- 
try, an’ work on a contract. I wish’t somebody’d 
come along an’ Itade me cattle for some o’ my 
niggers. He could have ’em at a bargain. We’ve got 
ter make sacrifices fer the kentry, an’ I’d sacrifice 
’em.” 

A gleam came into Shorty’s eyes, and a look of 
resolve into his face, as he overheard about the Cap- 
tain having received the money at Atlanta. 

“It’s money that he received for human flesh and 
blood, and it’ll be all right to take it,” he muttered 
to himself. “Besides, it’ll pay him up for stealin’ 
our shoes. I don’t believe that even Maria or the 
Deacon would say a word agin it.” 

The prisoners were put back into the cars, and 
the journey resumed. Shorty took his seat on the 
end of the tie next to the Captain. The night came 
on as they passed Macon, but there was no abate- 
ment of the heat. Si was still meditating plans of 
escape, but none suggested themselves which seemed 
feasible. He was in hopes that darkness would bring 
something, but the moon rose clearly. 

The Captain, anxious to get the draft, had shifted 
himself over to the side of the car, where the air 
made by the motion of the train would strike him full 


ON THE TRAIN FOR ANDERSONVILLE. 


135 


in the face. He sat on his box, and leaned his head 
against the side of the door. His dignity had melted 
away considerably since the morning, and he at last 
unbuttoned his coat, that the cooling breeze might 
strike his fevered breast. In spite of himself, his 
eyes would close in cat-naps, from which he would 
rouse himself and look sternly at the guards and the 
prisoners. Presently Shorty could hear his snoring 
mingling with the rumbling of the train. Shorty 
rose and took off Si’s big pine-leaf hat, which he 
held in both hands, and edged around the Captain 
as if trying to get near the door as possible. Others 
were doing the same, in the tired, restless movement 
of men kept on their feet without an opportunity to 
sit down for hours. From time to time the guards 
would make them stand back. Shorty held the hat 
in his left hand, and under its cover slipped his right 
down in the Captain’s breast as softly and carefully 
as if lifting a butterfly from a flower, without hurt- 
ing its gauzy wings. He touched a leather wallet, 
and gently catching it between the nails of his fore- 
finger and his second finger, without bending his 
hand, a trick which he had learned from an expert 
pickpocket in his gambling days, gently drew it out, 
behind the cover of the hat. Another large man 
had crowded in between him and the door, and the 
guard ordered him back. Shorty went back with 
him, made his way to a seat on the farthest end of 
the tie, handed the hat back to Si, and for hours 
seemed engaged in fixing up his shoes with the paw- 
paw strips he had brought with him. 

The awful long, wearisome night finally ended as 
the train halted at a shabby little station which 
differed from the others they had been passing in 


136 


SI KLEGG. 


that poverty-stricken country since leaving Macon 
in having quite a show about it of camps, military 
appurtenances and soldiers. 

“Hyah’s Andersonville, ’Squire. Wake up,” called 
the middle-aged, asthmatic guard, who was the only 
one really awake. 

“I declar’, I raylly believe I dropped off inter a 
little doze,” exclaimed the Captain, rubbing his eyes 
and entirely unconscious that he had been sound 
asleep for hours. “I didn’t inten’ ter, but I wuz 
powerful hot an’ tired. I only got about 40 winks, 
anyway.” 

The excitement of the arrival possessed him. He 
buttoned up his coat to his chin and assumed his 
sternest official air. 

“Come down, up thar,” he called to the men on the 
roof. “Git down, an’ form a string out thar around 
these prisoners as they git off. Be spry, now, fo’ we 
want ter turn these varmints over, an" git shet o’ 
them.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


THEY REACH ANDERSONVILLE. 

W HEN Shorty started to get out of the car he 
looked around for the sugar-trough, but it 
was gone. 

“Some smart Aleck has stole my hat, our dough- 
bowl, wash-basin an’ stool, all at one lick,” he said. 
“Got away with it while I was asleep. Durn a thief, 
anyway. But let him have it for awhile. He can’t 
hide it, an’ll just carry it for me, till I want it, when 
I’ll take it away from him. I need my hands free 
for awhile, anyway. I may see something else that 
I want worse’n the sugar-trough.” 

When they were gathered on the ground by the 
side of the track, Shorty saw his trough on the head 
of a tall Irishman a little ways distant, and immedi- 
ately tackled him. 

“Here, that’s my trough you’re makin’ a hat of. 
You stole it from me last night.” 

“G’wa wid ye,” said the Irishman scornfully. 
“Tain’t nothin’ av the koind. It’s me own. Oi picked 
it up back there beyant Marietty, an’ve had it all the 
toime. G’w’off now, an’ get a trough av yer own, if 
yer want wan. Don’t be thryin’ to claim other 
payple’s property, or Oi’ll fix up yer oogly face fer 
yez, so Oi will.” 

“I’ll see you later ’bout that,” said Shorty, walking 
(137) 


138 


SI KLEGG. 


back to his place with the other boys, who were 
astonished at the calmness with which he took the 
barefaced robbery. But Shorty had other ideas in 
mind. 

“Le’s move up toward the center of the line,” said 
he to Si. “I want to shake this crowd at the left. 

* I’m afraid they ain’t honest.” 

Si, knowing that his partner had some motive, did 
as suggested, without asking any questions. 

Capt. Smoots was in a condition of purple hysteria 
over getting his guards arrayed in proper shape, and 
securing all th€ prisoners for whom he was account- 
able. His company was in poor condition for early 
morning duty. The shock-headed boys were mostly 
asleep on the tops of the cars, and it was the sleep 
of youthful stupidity, which little short of an earth- 
quake could break. The old men were coughing, 
sneezing, rubbing their aching bones, and lifting up 
their voices in quavering laments. 

“Fer the Lawd’s sake, men, do wake up an’ git 
down an’ make a string around the kyahs,” pleaded 
Capt. Smoots, his unavailing anger at length break- 
ing down into whining anxiety. “Git down, quick. 
You mustn’t let one o’ these hyah Yanks git away, 
’deed you mustn’t. He’ll go ragin’ and ravenin’ over 
the kentry, like a plum wild hyena from a circus, 
burnin’ houses an’ stealin’ chickens an’ niggehs an’ 
hosses, an’ abusin’ women, an’ destroyin’ everything. 
Don’t let one of ’em git away no more’n you would 
a lynx. Git down, men, fer your lives.” 

His frame of mind was not improved by the ad- 
monitions yelled at him from Col. Tate, who, having 
drunk up all the whisky to be found the night before,* 
was now in a corresponding temper. 


THEY REACH ANDERSONVILLE. 


139 


“Sile Smoots, you Coweta County buffalo,” he 
yelled, “what air yo’ doin’ thar with that Constable’s 
posse that yo’ call a comp’ny? Air yo’ holdin’ a 
vandoo, or gwine ter work the roads ? Git that thar 
outfit o’ your’n inter some sort o’ line, even if yo’ 
have ter back ’em up agin a rail fence ter do hit. 
An’ do hit mouty quick, too. We kain’t wait forever 
on them spavined ole steers ter git the rheumatism 
out o’ their j’ints. Hustle around thar lively, I 
tell yo’.” 

“Bill Tate,” shouted back the ex-Justice, “yo’ jest 
keep yo’ mouth shet, an’ ’tend ter yo’ business an’ 
I’ll ’tend ter mine. Yo’ don’t know no more ’bout 
military nor I do, yo’ ole niggeh-trader, if yo’ wuz 
at the firin’ on Fort Sumter. Yo’ look out fer them 
other companies. They’ve wuss behind ’an I am. 
I’ll have mine out afore ’em. Yo’ kain’t cuss me 
’round as if I wuz yo’ niggeh. I won’t stand hit. 
I’m a better born, respectabler man than yo’ ever 
dared be, in spite o’ the airs yo’re puttin’ on.” 

Then the Captain turned his anger on his own 
company. 

“Fo the Lawd’s sake, Ans Williams,, don’t move 
them splay-feet o’ yo’m as if they done tuck root 
every time yo’ set ’em down. Nat Greene, don’t tell 
me yo’re nigh dead with the rheumatics on sich a 
brilin’ hot day as this. Tain’t in reason. Pete Wil- 
lerby, wake up, thar. Yo’ hain’t got but one eye, an’ 
don’t need half as much sleep as ary other man. 
Move yer stumps an’ git over thar. Jim Hawks, yo’ 
brat, open them gooseberry eyes o’ yo’rn, an’ shet 
that thar cave-hole in yer face. If yo’ don’t the flies 
’ll blow yer innards. Git over thar. Git over thar, 


140 


SI KLEGG. 


afore all these Yankees git away from yo* an’ jest 
nacherally ruin an’ malleroo the whole country.” 

It required barely an hour of vociferation and pers- 
piration to get the prisoners off the train and fairly 
started toward the prison less than a mile away. 

Si studied everything around with the deepest 
interest. Here was the infamous Andersonville, ol f 
which they had heard so much. The country from 
Macon south had been a dreary sandy plain, growing 
less inviting the farther they came. Occasional shal- 
low streams cut the plain, meandering sluggishly 
through wide marshes filled with rank growths of 
cane and briars. Whatever scanty richness had been 
in the land had washed down into these marshes, 
which looked like the natural homes of venomous 
snakes and all manner of unclean things. The tim- 
ber struck Si as the strangest of all. He had never 
seen but small stretches of such lean and hungry 
soil as now seemed of interminable extent, and these 
stretches were well-covered with scrub-oak in the 
North, and with cedars in Kentucky and Tennessee, 
and where there were no trees there were bushes 
and briars. But here, as far as the eye could reach 
in any direction, were gigantic, long-leaved pines, 
straight and slender as columns, without a branch 
or knot for 60 or 75 feet, and then terminating in a 
sparse crown of scraggly limbs. The trees stood 20 
feet apart, and in the intervening space was nothing 
but a scanty wiry grass thinly covering the yellow 
sand. There was no shrubbery, no underbrush, no 
kindly little copses, as seen in other forests; no 
flowers or lush grass in the openings. No coverts or 
wild fruits for birds or wild animals. No nut trees 
for frisking squirrels. No fragrant blossoms for the 


THEY REACH ANDERSONVILLE. 


141 


bees. No plums, cherries, grapes, nor luscious 
berries on plant, vine or shrub. The stunted, ragged 
tops of the tall trees gave no more shade than a hay- 
rick; the parched, sterile sand as little nutriment 
for succulent herbage as a spent ash-heap. Miserable 
and shiftless as had seemed the farms and farmers 
in Kentucky and Tennessee, they were thrifty and 
comfortable compared to the squalid shacks, the 
starved fields, the hunger-smitten, shambling men 
and women and mangy animals of the Georgia pine- 
barrens. The men in the mountains were the de- 
cendants of parents who had at least energy and 
ability enough to fight Indians and hunt wild beasts. 
The South Georgia crackers were the progeny of the 
paupers and outcasts transported from England, 
and then driven off the plantations when it was 
found that the negros were more valuable field- 
workers. They had squatted anywhere and every- 
where, and brought forth their kind like the beasts 
of the field, but lacked the enterprise of the wolves 
and the foxes, to migrate whither they could make a 
better living. 

An extensive clearing had been made around the 
ramshackle little station at Andersonville, on ths 
railroad built to connect the productive North 
Georgia country with navigable water in Appalachi- 
cola Bay. Part of the trees had been used to build 
sheds and cabins around the station for the supplies 
for the guards and prisoners, and quarters for the 
officers. If anything were drearier than the endless 
stretch of widely-separated, bare-trunked trees, it 
was that of the mangled stumps where trees had 
once been. 

A creek with a swamp on either side crossed the 


142 


SI KLEGG. 


railroad near the station and flowed eastward. Along 
this were the camps of the thousands of the Georgia 
Reserves, who were guarding the prison. They had 
some white tents which gleamed hotly in the morning 
sun, but most of them were sheltered under rude 
shacks, constructed with the least possible labor and 
skill, from branches of the pine trees. Many, too 
lazy to build even these, simply lay around the roots 
of the pine trees. On the crest of the rising ground 
to the left, as they faced the prison, were inter- 
minable rows of little yellow mounds. 

“That’s the Yankee buryin’ ground,” wheezed 
asthmatic Eph Perkins, who had been there before 
with prisoners, as he noticed the direction of Si’s 
gaze. “They’re plantin’ the Yanks powerful fast 
out thar. More’n a thousand a day, I’ve hearn tell.” 

Si shuddered, and turned his eyes on the great 
forts which crowned the slopes rising on either side 
from the creek, and the breastwork, facing from 
him, which connected them. Beyond this rose a high 
stockade of squared pine logs, deeply planted in the 
ground. At intervals around the top were little 
perches in which stood men with guns, guarding 
the walls overlooking the interior of the prison. 

“Is that the awful place we’ve heard so much 
about?” Si asked Shorty. “It can’t be so very ter- 
rible, if it’s nothin’ worse than layin’ outdoors in 
sich weather as this. They’ll certainly give us 
enough to eat, and we’re used to layin’ outdoors.” 

“0, they can’t keep us there long,” Shorty an- 
swered confidently. “There’s some way o’ beatin’ 
these scarecrow guards, who hain’t as much sense 
as nine-days’-old puppies. Even if we don’t, Old 
Billy’ll take Atlanty before the moon changes, an' 


THEY REACH ANDERSONVILLE. 


143 


come down thru this country like a hurricane. When 
he once gits them fellers out o’ the mountains, he’ll 
run the stuffin’ out o’ them thru these pine openin’s. 
It can’t be near so bad in there as represented. At 
worst, it’s only layin’ outdoors, which hain’t killin’ 
in this kind o’ weather.” 



“THAT’S THE YANKEE BURYIN’ GROUND,” WHEEZED 
ASTHMATIC EPH PERKINS. 


“I don’t know about that,” said Si, as they 
marched along. “Great God! look there, will you?” 

A four-mule team came lumbering slowly along, 
drawing a wagon piled to its utmost with stiffened 
corpses. In all their long experience with every 
conceivable phase of the horrors of war they had 
never seen anything so ghastly. The naked, skinny 
arms and legs which protruded from the mass were 


144 


SI KLEGG. 


grimed with dirt, and wasted away to mere skele- 
tons. All were nearly naked, which made their con- 
dition look far more horrible. Most of them had 
their great toes tied together with bits of string, and 
their hands folded on their breasts, on which were 
little bits of paper, containing their names, com- 
panies and regiments. Many had not even this much 
preparation for the grave, but were thrown into the 
wagon with their limbs horribly contorted in the 
last agonies of death. Two or three lay on their 
sides and glared With wide-open, stony eyes directly 
at Si and Shorty. 

“That’s the way they’re totin’ ’em out all the 
time,” said wheezy Perkins. “I done reckon they’ve 
toted out more’n a million of ’em so fur, an’ that 
’ere wagon’s kep’ runnin’ all the time. , Hit’s the 
wagon as hauls grub up to them at the stockade that 
air yit livin’, an’ hauls away them as is dead.” 

“Great God! they don’t bury ’em that way, do 
they?” gasped Si. 

“0, yes, they do,” coughed Eph with a chuckle. 
“They done tote ’em up onter the hill thar, an’ dig 
long ditches an’ lay ’em in, jist as you see ’em, in 
long rows, longer’n corn rows. They’ve done got a 
right smart sized farm kivvered with ’em already, 
an’ hit’s growin’ bigger every day. A right smart 
heap air dyin’ all the time.” 

“An’ you rebels call yourselves Christians,” said 
Si bitterly. 

“I reckon we’uns hain’t got nothin’ ter do with 
hit,” snuffled Eph. <f No more’n we’uns had ter do 
with bringin’ on the war. The war jist come of 
hitself. The rich folks done brung hit on, if any- 


THEY REACH ANDERSONVILLE. 


145 


body, an’ po’ folks have ter stand hit as best they 
kin/’ 

“Why don’t you make your rich folks stop the 
war?” Si asked angrily. “You kin do it if you want 
to. They started it, an’ they kin stop it whenever 
they make up their minds to quit fightin’, an’ obey 
the laws, same as the rest of us.” 

“I tell yo’ we po’ folks hain’t got nothin’ ter do 
with hit, in no way,” piped Eph. “When rich folks 
makes up their minds ter anything the best thing 
fer po’ folks is ter stand ’round, an’ mind what they 
tells ’em. Them as minds best has least trouble.” 

“I wouldn’t live in a country where, jest because 
a man’s got some money, or land or niggers, he kin 
do jest as he pleases,” said Si. “Hain't you free an’ 
independent, an’ got jest as many rights as they 
have ?” 

“They done tell us something like that on Fo’th o’ 
July,” Eph replied, “but I’m a-gwine on 60 years 
old, an’ I’ve never seed no rights that a po’ man had 
but ter be borned, grown up, marry, have a passel 
o’ young ones, die, an’ have six feet o’ clay shoveled 
on ’em. I don’t s’pos6 po’ folks’d be allowed graves 
if rich folks wanted ’em fer somethin’ else.” 

“What’s this cornin’ here?” asked Shorty, as they 
approached the great fort on the south side, in. which 
was Capt. Wirz’s headquarters. 

With painfully halting steps, for they were chained 
together at neck and feet, came a gang of about 25 
men, all -ragged, thin to emaciation, and many of 
them nearly dropping from weakness and fatigue. 
On either side of the gang marched a rebel guard, 
with musket and fixed bayonet, and who urged them 
along with abuse and curses. 


146 


SI KLEGG. 


“Them’s fellers as tried ter run away, an’ got 
cotched,” Eph explained. “The ole Dutch Cap’n 
mostly kills ’em when he cotches ’em runnin’ away, 
but some he saves alive an’ puts on the chain-gang 
as a warnin’ ter the others.” 

“Si Klegg! Shorty,” wailed a thin, weak voice, 
from the middle of the gang. They looked, startled, 
in that direction, but could see no one they could 
remember to have ever seen before. 

“Here I am,” continued the voice. “It’s me, Zeke 
Pritchard. Don’t you know me, boys?” he continued 
pitifully. 

“Why, Zeke, is it possible that’s you?” gasped Si 
in astonishment, as the memory came back of the 
stalwart youth of their company, and one of its best 
soldiers, whom they had last seen as they started 
on the fateful rush for the rebel colors at Chicka- 
mauga. This was only a sad wreck of that splendid 
piece of manhood. 

“Yes, it’s what’s left of me, boys,” called out Zeke 
as the squad hobbled on. “Look out for yourselves, 
boys. It’s hell inside there.” 

“If it hain’t hell outside there, with him,” said 
Shorty, looking after him, with shocked eyes, “I 
don’t know what the word means. Poor Zeke. Never 
a better soldier breathed than him.” 

By this time the prisoners had reached the vicinity 
of the fort on the south side, where Wirz had his 
headquarters. They were halted there, and Col. 
Tate was to turn them over to the commandant of 
the prison. 

An undersized man, dressed in white duck, and 
wearing a gray military cap, came out of the sally- 
port of the fort with a blank-book in his hands. He 


THEY REACH ANDERSONVILLE. 


147 


had scanty black whiskers around his rat-like face 
and sharp, ferret-like eyes. A perpetual scowl 
wrinkled his narrow, low forehead. In a holster 
hanging to the belt around his waist was a prepos- 
terously large revolver, with a cylinder containing 10 
chambers and beside a second barrel, with the bore 
of a musket, under the main barrel. He saluted the 
Colonel with a jerky, impatient motion, and said in 
a harsh, rasping voice : 

“Veil, Gurnel, you kot ofer here at lasd. I dought 
yo’ nefer was earning. I haf peen vaiting for you all 
de mornings. Vhat made you so lade.” 

“I come as soon’s I could get the prisoners off the 
train,” answered Col. Tate surlily. “My men wuz 
tired an’ sleepy from their all-night’s ride, an’ wuzn’t 
as spry as they mout’ve bin.” 

“Dese tamt Georchy Reserf es,” sneered the Cap- 
tain, “as solchers dey ain’t vorth de gorn-meal dey 
eat in deir rations, efen if you koot ket de gom- 
meal for nuttings. Dey plague de life out off me. 
Unt deir officers ain’t a tamt pit petter. Dey all 
ought to pe blowed avay togedder.” 

“Capt. Wirz,” said Col. Tate angrily, “you shet 
up, yo’ infernal Dutch fool. I won’t tak’ none o’ 
yer slack. I’m a blamed sight better man than yo’ 
ever dared to be, an’ my men air better’n ary Durch- 
man that ever et sourcrout. Shet up, now.” 

“Gurnel Date,” said Capt. Wirz, ignoring the per- 
sonal allusions, “how many brisoners haf you kot?” 

“Between 500 and 600.” 

“Dere it iss again. Petween 500 unt 600. You 
don’d know how many you’ve kot. Yoost like dese 
tamt militia officers. Dey gan’t gount, unt dey ton’t 
know anything for certain. How many did you 


148 


SI KLEGG. 


stard vrom Marietta wit? I’ll pet you’fe lost half 
off dem on de roat. Twould be yoost like you 
Reserf es. You’d let dem jump de drain unt sgatter 
oud all ofer de gountry.” 

“You’re a liar,” said the Colonel hotly. “Didn’t 
nary one escape. One tried to, but wuz shot down 
before he’d got two rods. I’ve got every other that 
I started with.” 

“I ton’t pelieve it. Led me see the lisd de Provo- 
Marshal gif you. Vhere iss id?” 

“The paper the Provo done give me? What did 
I do with it? 0, yes, I done give hit ter Capt. Smoots 
ter keep. As he had to bring up the r’ar, I thought 
he orter have hit, that he mout know how many we 
had, an’ ter keep track o’ ’em.” 

“Yoost like a tamt fool Reserfe officer,” muttered 
Capt. Wirz under his breath. 

“Capt. Smoots, Capt. Smoots,” yelled the Colonel. 
“Capt. Wirz hyah wants that air paper which the 
Provo-Marshal at Marietty done give me. Bring hit 
up hyah.” 

Capt. Smoots started to walk up the line, unbut- 
toning his coat as he did so, and putting his hand 
in his breast for the pocketbook, in which he had 
placed the paper. A look of blank dismay spread 
over his large, red face. 

“I have bin robbed,” he gasped. “I’ve done bin 
robbed of over $500 in Confederit money, besides a 
lot of vallerable papers. Some o’ them Yankees done 
stole hit. They picked my pocket, while I wuz on 
the kyahs.” 

“Picked yer pocket,” said Col. Tate scornfully. 
“Bright man, you air. How could they pick yer 
pocket, when yo’ had yer coat buttoned up that 


THEY REACH ANDERSONVILLE. 


149 


a-way, an’ wuz wide-awake, an’ watchin’ all the 
time, as I ordered yo\ Likely story, sah.” 

“Likely or not, hit’s true as I’m a-livin’ man. They 
done tuck away from me a big calfskin wallet sich 
as I allers tote my Justice’s papers in. I had in hit, 
besides my papers and notes and due-bills, $500 that 
I got from Nate Strawn for my nigger boy Bounce, 
beside some other money.” 

“Yoost like you tamt Reserfe officers,” snarled 
Capt. Wirz. “Efery dime yo’ ket near de Yankees 
dey sdeal you plind. Dey’d sdeal de ferry headts 
off you, if dey’s vass vorth sdealing, vhich Gott 
knows dey aind. I egsbect some day dey’ll sdeal a 
whole rechiment, Gurnel unt all, unt garry it off to 
de Yankee lines. You say id vass a large ledder 
bocket-pook? Vhell, ve’ll vind id. Dey gan’t hide 
dat from me. Vhich are de men dat vass in de gar 
mit you? Piht dem oud.” 

“All Yanks look alike to me,” said Capt. Smoots., 
surveying the ranks with troubled eyes. “I can’t 
tell them now. But them on the left line must’ve bin 
the ones, as they’uns got off the train last,” and he 
pointed to the left of the line. 

“All righd,” said Capt. Wirz. “Now we’re ketting 
at somedings. How many were in de gar?” 

“I rayally don’t know,” said the Captain. “I de- 
clare I didn’t count ’em.” 

“Of gourse you didn’t, you hindwoods yokel. You’d 
titn’t half sense enough to think off id, an’ if you 
hat t’ought off id, you hatn’t prains enough to gount 
dat many. You probably hat 60 or 70 in de gar. 
Ve’ll dake de lasd hundret to make sure. Vun, two, 
tree,” and he counted the front rank up to 50, and 
then commanded: 


150 


SI KLEGG. 


“Side step to de left. Dere. Halt ! Holt up your 
hants. Now, garts, if vun of dem moves, or trops 
his hants before I git drouh, shoot him down at 
vunce. Don’t vait for no orters. Vatch dem glose 
dat dey don’t drop nuttings to de grount unt hide id 
in de sand mit deir veet. Vatch dem glose.” 

He began searching the men on the right of the 
line with swift dexterity, born of long practice. 

“There was a man in the kyah wearin’ a sugar 
trough for a hat,” said Capt. Smoots, cudgeling his 
memory. “There he is, now!” 

“Yes, unt he looks de thief all ofer,” said Capt. 
Wirz, pouncing upon the luckless Irishman. “Gone 
oud of ranks. Dake off your gloze, unt hant dem to 
me vun py vun.” 

The dazed Irishman did as bidden. Wirz took 
each garment and ran his hand over it, and threw it 
down on the ground. Soon the man was stark 
naked under the broiling sun, but no signs of the 
pocket-book nor of any of the papers it contained 
had developed. 

“There was a man in the kyah that had a poke o’ 
meal,” suggested Capt. Smoots, pointing to another 
man who had received a similar favor to Si’s. 
“Thar he is, now.” 

Capt. Wirz pounced on him, dragged him out of 
the line, emptied his bag of meal on the ground, 
stirred it up with his foot, and then compelled him 
to strip naked, with like paucity of result. 

Wirz was getting to the end of his limited 
patience. 

“How pig did you say dat bocketpook vass?*’ he 
asked Smoots. 


THEY REACH ANDERSONVILLE. 


151 


“0, quite a good-sized one. Big enough ter hold 
writs an’ summonses an’ capisus.” 

“0, I know, pig as a horse-collar, unt yet you 
didn’t know vhen it vass daken avay. Veil, I’ll vind 
id. Id’s too pig for dem to hide.” 

He passed rapidly and roughly through the rest 
of the 100, shoving them about and cursing them as 
he examined, but, of course, found no pocket-book. 
Then he went back to the others, and put them 
through the same ordeal. When he came to the 
bunch over Shorty’s heart, he thought he had dis- 
covered his quest at last, and tore Shorty’s shirt in 
the eagerness with which he jerked the package out. 
He unrolled the silk handkerchief and let Maria’s 
picture, letters and piece of dress fall on the sand. 

“Only tamt lofe letters,” said he, shoving the slik 
handkerchief into his own pocket and stepping for- 
ward to search Si. 

As Shorty picked up his treasures, carefully 
brushed the dust from them, and restored them to 
his pocket, there was murder enough in his heart to 
have desolated the whole Southern Confederacy. A 
wicked-looking old rebel, standing not 10 feet from 
him, with a big blunderbuss of a gun, had a restrain- 
ing influence. 

“0, tarn your olt bocket-pook,” said Wirz finally. 
“I know dese men ditn’t ket it, I’d’ve vound id if dey 
hat.. Dey’re smard, but I’m smarder dan dey are, 
unt I gan beat dem efery day in de veek. I pelief 
you laid your bocket-pook down some vheres unt 
vorgot id. Anyhow, I haf no more dime to vool 
apoud id. I’ve got to gount dese brisoners unt ket 
dem inside right avay, before anodder drain kets in. 
I’ll gif you a receipt for de number off brisoners you 


152 


SI KLEGG. 


haf delivered to me, unt you gan seddle mit de 
Provo-Marshal as pest you gan. I eggsbect he’ll gif 
you somedings to think apout dat’ll make you vorget 
apout your ole bocket-pook, for you haf brobably 
lost half vhat you started oud mit. Sergt. Smit, 
take dese men to do north gate, unt distribute dem 
to fill up de detachments mit.” 

“But, Captain,” protested Smoots, “I know that 
some o’ them must have my pocket-book. Don’t send 
them in till I take another look.” 

“I tolt you, tarn your olt bocket-pook. I’ve vooled 
afay all de dime I’m koing to. You’d petter be think- 
ink apout de Provo-Marshal. Dat’s more as $500 to 
you. Sergt. Smit, do as I order you.” 


CHAPTER X. 


FIRST DAY IN THE ANDERSONVILLE STOCKADE. 

T HE tall, slender young rebel whom Capt. Wirz 
had addressed as “Sergt. Smith,” carried 
his head on one side, in a peculiar way, and 
was for that reason known as “Wry-necked Smith” 
among the prisoners. He did not seem necessarily a 
bad or cruel man. Neither was he a particularly 
good or humane one. He was simply an ordinary- 
minded young fellow, without marked propensities 
in any direction, and obeyed such orders as he got 
without comment, and apparently without opinion. 
At least, he never expressed any one way or the 
other. He put himself at the right of the line, and 
commanded : 

“Attention! Right face — Forward — File left — 
March !” 

The men tramped down the hill and past the 
breastworks, in which Si noticed were piles of little 
iron balls, to each of which was attached a stick, 
having pasteboard wings like the feathers of an 
arrow, only very much larger. 

“What in the world’s them things ?” he asked won- 
deringly. 

“Them? Them’s hand-grenades to throw at the 
prisoners if they made a rush,” answered an old 
Regular, who was tramping along behind. “We used 
( 153 ) 


154 


SI KLEGG. 


to have lots o’ them things in the forts when I was 
in the artillery. They’re awful things at close range 
if they go off.” 

“I’d like to git a chance to throw some o’ them 
myself into that fort up there,” said Si, looking at 
the heavy bastions around Wire's headquarters, 
where the cannoneers, in accordance with their cus- 
tom when new prisoners were put in the stockade, 
were standing to their guns, with lanyards in hand, 
ready for a rush when the gates were opened. “I 
used to be lightnin’ on throwin’ stones, and I think 
I could land them things in great shape up there 
among them artillerymen. I’d like to try a few jest 
for luck.” 

“Mebbe we’ll have a chance if them fellers inside 
are ready for a break, as they orter be,” said Shorty 
hopefully. 

There were two gates to the prison, one on the 
northern side of the creek and the other on the south- 
ern. Both of these were made double by a square 
projection of about 75 feet from the main stockade, 
and composed, like it, of squared pine logs set firmly 
in the ground. Heavy gates of solid plank opened 
into these. The prisoners were taken inside these 
smaller inclosures, or wagons with rations driven in. 
The outer gates were then securely closed, and then 
the gates leading into the prison were opened. This 
effectually precluded any rush of those confined when 
the gates were opened. One of Si’s hopes died when 
he saw this arrangement. 

The prisoners were marched directly under the 
threatening guns of the fort into the inclosure 
around the south gate, and then the outer gates were 
closed. 


IN THE ANDERSONVILLE STOCKADE. 


155 


“Yo’uns stay right hyah till I want yo’uns,” said 
Sergt. Smith, consulting a paper in his hand. “I 
want now these hyah 11 men at this end o’ the line. 
Yo’uns come with me.” 

He opened the wicket of the large gate into the 
prison and put them thru, counting them as he did 



SI PLEADS FOR LITTLE PETE. 


so, the 11 men he needed to fill up the places in the 
First Detachment made vacant by those who had 
died the day before. He continued this process until 
he came to where Si and Shorty were, and counted 
off them and Alf Russell, Monty Scruggs, Gid 
Mackall, and Harry Joslyn into a squad, leaving 
Sandy Baker and Pete Skidmore for the next Their 


156 


SI KLEGG. 


faces blanched at the idea of being separated from 
their companions. 

“Corp’l Elliott, you’re goin’ to lose me,” yelled 
Pete. 

“Sergeant,” said Si, “those two boys belong to our 
company. Can’t you take ’em along with us?” 

“Can’t do hit,” said Sergt. Smith decisively. 
“Need jist six ter fill up the Thirteenth Detachment. 
Go ahead, thar.” 

Visible tears welled up in Pete’s eyes. “0, what 
will we do if you lose us in this awful place?” he 
wailed. “We’ll die, sure.” 

“Sergeant,” pleaded Shorty, “fix it so that little 
boy kin go with us. I have to take care o’ him.” 

“Can’t do hit, I tell you. Only need six for the 
Thirteenth. But you’ll all be together. Don’t fear 
that. You’ll find yo’selves close enough in thar, I tell 
yo’uns.” 

“Sergeant,” said Si, “you’re a soldier, an’ you 
understand these things. Them boys belong to our 
mess, an’ we don’t want to be separated. You know 
about that.” 

The appeal to the Sergeant’s soldiership softened 
him a little. He looked at his list, and then at Si 
and Shorty, his eyes resting on the buttons on their 
blouses. By some mistake what were known as 
“staff buttons” had been sewed on the blouses which 
Co. Q had drawn. These not only had the figure of 
the eagle very elegantly stamped, but had a bright, 
flat rim, and were dearly prized by the rebels, who 
were always very eager to get “Yankee buttons,” 
and more especially the kind prescribed for the staff. 

“Le’ me see,” said he, looking at his list again. 
“How many air thar of yo’uns?” 


IN THE ANDERSONVILLE STOCKADE. 


157 


“Eight,” answered Si. 

“I need jest eight ter fill up the Fo’teenth Detach- 
ment. If you’ll give me them air buttons on yer coat 
I’ll let yo’uns fall back, an’ put yo’uns all together 
in the Fo’teenth.” 

It struck Si as a funny proposition. He had not 
yet learned of the universal hunger of the rebels for 
buttons, coming from the inability of the Southern 
Confederacy to produce anything but clumsy, intoler- 
ably heavy specimens of these indispensable adjuncts 
to men’s clothing.. But he had never valued those 
that adorned the front of his blouse very highly, and 
without any more words, he whipped out his knife, 
cut his buttons off and handed them to the Sergeant. 

“Want them air little ones on the cuffs, too,” said 
Smith. “They’re the hardest ter git of any.” 

“You’re a regler Yankee at drivin’ a bargain,” 
said Si, beginning to understand. “But you kin have 
’em, too.” 

The Sergeant disappeared thru the wicket with 
the six others he had taken instead, and on his return 
led Si, Shorty and the others thru the wicket, and a 
little ways into the prison, when he turned to the 
right, and then up into the extreme southwestern 
corner. 

“Where is the Sergeant of the Fo’teenth Detach*- 
ment?” he inquired. 

“Here I am,” answered a tall, thin but quite broad- 
shouldered youth, clad in a shirt and pantaloons 
made of coarse white bagging. He arose from a 
chunk of wood on which he was seated, while a com- 
rade was laboriously cutting off his mop of shaggy 
black hair with a pair of very dull scissors. 

“Sergeant,” said Wry-necked Smith, “I’ve done 


158 


SI KLEGG. 


brung eight men ter take the places o’ them what 
died yesterday. Hyah they’uns is. You’ll draw 
rations for they’uns ter day. 

With that Smith turned on his heel and disap- 
peared in the crowd. 

“Well, boys,” said the Sergeant of the Detach- 
ment, as he turned to seat himself for a continuance 
of the hair cutting, “make yo’selves at home around 
hyah as best you can. I can’t say that I’m glad to 
see you. Glad ain’t no name for this place. You can 
sit down anywhere that there’s room. Them boys 
as died laid mostes up near the dead-line thar, but 
their places have bin taken by the others who was 
watchin’ for ’em to die. I’ll look ’round for you a 
little when this feller’s thru with my hair, if he ever 
gits thru, an’ don’t pull it all out o’ my head with 
them blamed dull shears. If he keeps on hurtin’ me 
I may get mad an’ kill him before he goes much 
further. What regiment do you belong to?” 

“The 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry,” an- 
swered Si, while Shorty and the others were looking 
around in blank amazement at the wonderful and 
terrible scene which opened out before them. 

“What! the 200th Ind. ?” said the Sergeant, jump- 
ing up with such suddenness as to almost upset the 
hair-cutter. “The devil you say. Why, that was in 
our brigade. Splendid boys. Best regiment in the 
Army o’ the Cumberland, next to our own. Say, 
ain’t you Si Klegg, that bull-headed Corporal o’ 
Co. Q?” 

“I’m certainly Si Klegg, an’ probably I’ve bin bull- 
headed at times. I’m a Sergeant now.” 

“Put her there, my boy,” said the Sergeant, put- 
ting out his hand delightedly. “Don’t you know me? 


IN THE ANDERSONVILLE STOCKADE. 


159 


I’m Ike Deeble, Orderly-Sergeant o’ Co. A, lat 
Oskosh Volunteers. Don’t you remember me?” 

“Why, yes, yes. You’re the man that your com- 
pany backed to fight Shorty for a purse of $100 back 
there at Murfreesboro, an’ the fight didn’t come off 
on account o’ your regiment being ordered off on the 
Manchester raid, an’ we didn’t see you no more till 
the Tullyhomy campaign. Here’s Shorty now.” 

Deeble seemed even more pleased to see Shorty 
than he had been to meet Si, and shook hands 
warmly with him. 

“How long’ve you bin in here?” asked Shorty. 

“Well, I’ve bin here about three months, but I’ve 
been in other rebel prisons seven months — seems to 
me more’n 10 years. I was taken at Chickamauga 
with 10 more of our boys an’ six of yours. Four of 
our boys an’ two of yours died on Belle Isle. Two 
more of ours an’ two of yours died at Danville ; two 
of ours an’ one of yours have died since we’ve bin 
here, an’ the only one of your regiment that’s still 
alive is Zeke Pritchard, who’s on the chain-gang, I 
hear, for runnin’ away. He can’t stand it long. He’ll 
have to go soon.” 

“Sit down, boys, an’ talk,” he continued, “while 
this feller’s butchering my hair. Save him from my 
wrath if he hurts me too bad to stand. Tell me all 
about the old brigade, an’ particularly all you know 
about the 1st Oskosh. God, I’d give up my hopes of 
Heaven in a holy minute to be with ’em now. How’s 
the army gettin’ along? When in God’s name is old 
Sherman goin’ to come down an’ bust this hell-hole 
wide open?” 

Deeble was so eager for information that Si and 
Shorty sat down on the ground and told him and the 


160 


SI KLEGG. 


dense crowd gathered around all that they could of 
the history of the army since Chickamauga, and of 
the campaign then in progress. All the Western 
men in that part of the stockade learned that some 
new prisoners had been brought in from Sherman’s 
Army, and pressed around to learn, if possible, 
something about their own regiments, brigades, or 
divisions. They plied Si and Shorty with questions, 
but Deeble’s were given the right of way and an- 
swered first. 

But about every third question was one asked with 
heart-sickened plaintiveness by some, with fierce im- 
patience by others, and with intense eagerness by all : 

“What did you hear about exchange?” 

Now, up to the moment of their own capture, Si 
and Shorty had hardly so much as thought of the 
word “exchange,” which was henceforth to be of 
overshadowing importance to them. The hurly- 
burly of the campaign had given little opportunity 
to think of the fate of those who had been taken 
prisoners. It left little time even to think of the 
dead, wounded and sick. The living and active had 
all the time too much business with the living and 
active in front to pay much heed to those who for 
any reason had passed from the fighting line. Si and 
Shorty could only scratch their heads and answer 
vaguely that they had heard somewhere that all the 
prisoners captured on both sides were to be ex- 
changed, but there was no definite date set, or other 
particulars given. 

“Boys, open out there a little bit,” said a voice in 
the rear of the crowd. “We want to bring our pard- 
ner up to see the new prisoners. He’s heard that 
there’s some new men brung in from Sherman’s 


IN THE ANDERSONVILLE STOCKADE. 


161 


Army, and he wants to see and speak to ’em. It’ll 
do him good.” 

The crowd opened out to admit the passage of two 
boys carrying the wasted form of a third. His 
skinny arms lay around their necks. His face was 
pinched and pain-drawn, and his thin lips could not 
close over his livid, bulging, scurvy-swollen gums. 
Below the fragments of his tattered pantaloons 
stretched his wasted legs, with the ankles so dis- 
torted, swollen and stiff that he could not have 
walked if his feebleness had permitted it. His com- 
rades set him on the ground, and he devoured the 
newcomers with eyes that at one instant flashed with 
the delirium of the departing soul, and the next were 
glazed with the waning vitality of the body. 

“You’re from the army — the Army o’ the Cum- 
berland,” he whispered. 

“Yes,” answered Si, taking his wasted hand ten- 
derly. 

“You look like it — you look like the boys used to 
look. So big and strong and fresh. Not like we are 
here. It does me so much good jist to see you. When 
did you leave the army?” 

“Two days ago,” answered Si, with an effort at 
recollection, for it did not seem to him that it could 
have possibly been so short a' time. 

“My God, only two days away,” shrieked the 
dying man. “Sherman’s Army only two days away. 
Only think of it. More than 100,000 men marching 
and fighting not more than two days from here, and 
25,000 men rotting to death here, like murrained 
cattle. Ain’t it no farther between Heaven and hell 
than two days? Only two days ago you were with 

6 


162 


SI KLEGG. 


them! You saw them marching in all their great- 
ness and strength, going into line of battle, batteries 
galloping up, the bugles blowing, the officers giving 
commands ; old Pap Thomas sitting on his horse and 
sending his Aids galloping one way and another, 
regiments marching and counter-marching, the boys 
cheering the Generals and the officers they liked, all 
jist as I saw ’em the last time, when we lined up at 
Chickamauga on Buckner’s flank, and our first volley 
burned off the whole end of his line jist as you’d 
burn a straw with a match. Only two days ago you 
were with them, and saw all this. I could die happy 
if I could only look on it once more.” 

His head dropped on Si’s shoulder for an instant. 
Then rousing himself, he inquired eagerly : 

“But we’re licking ’em, ain’t we?” 

“You bet we are,” answered Si, earnestly. “Every 
day in the week, with a double-dose on Sunday.” 

The dying man grasped Shorty’s hand for con- 
firmation. 

“Yes, sir,” responded Shorty. “We’re jist sockin’ 
it into ’em right where they live, an’ no let-up on 
account o’ the weather. Before the leaves turn their 
damned old Southern Confederacy will be fryin’ in 
brimstone batter, an’ Jeff Davis be breakin’ his neck 
to outrun the hangman.” 

“Thank God for that!” whispered the dying man 
in devout accents. “Wish I could live to see it. 
But — I — can’t. Good — by — boys.” 

His head fell back, and Si laid him softly on the 
ground. His comrades arranged his shrunken limbs, 
and with a stub of a pencil, wrote his name, com- 
pany and regiment on a fragment torn from a diary, 
which they pinned on his breast with a pine splinter. 


IN THE ANDERSONVILLE STOCKADE. 


163 


“Say, you boys,” said Ike Deeble, “if you carry 
him right down to the gate now they’ll let you take 
him outside to the deadhouse, an’ you can pick up 
some wood to bring in.” 

It was a chance too good to be lost. They picked 
up their comrade and disappeared. An hour or two 
later they came back, one carrying a pine rail, and 
the other a load of pine-knots. 

“Well, boys,” said Deeble, addressing himself to 
Si and Shorty, “you played in great luck in getting 
into our Detachment. We have this corner of the 
camp all to ourselves. We were among the first 
comers, an’ we pre-empted this piece of ground for 
ourselves, an’ so we ain’t crowded like they are else- 
where. We have about the only street there is in the 
prison, an’ so have room enough to move around, 
which there ain’t anywhere else. We keep our 
ground a little cleaner than the others can, an’ so 
you see you’re among the aristocrats, if there can be 
any aristocracy in hell. You’ll have room enough to 
lie down, but I don’t know what you’re going to do 
for shelter. You don’t seem to have no blankets or 
tents.” 

“No,” answered Si. “We stripped for the charge. 
Didn’t carry nothin’ but guns, cartridge-boxes, an’ 
canteens.” 

“That’s awful bad,” said Deeble. “You’ll have to 
lay on the bare ground until something can be done. 
By watchin’ ’round you’ll be able in time to snatch 
some dead man’s blanket or tent, but you’ll have to 
be mighty spry, for every dying man is watched 
like a hawk to get his things the moment he stiffens. 
That’s my shack you see there,” he continued, pointing 
to the biggest shelter in the neighborhood, and which 


164 


. SI KLEGG. 


occupied the corner formed by the two dead-lines. 
“I an’ my chums got in here when there was plenty 
of poles an’ pine-tops, an’ we knew enough about 
prison life then to lose no time in fixing things up. 
I wish I could take you in there, but it’s as full as it 
can hold. This piece of ground, from here to here, 
will be yours. Squat on it, an’ hold it against all 
comers. I’ll be on the lookout for something to make 
you a shelter. Maybe I can steal a couple of meal 
bags when they are issuing rations. That’s the way 
I got this shirt and trousers.” He pointed to his gar- 
ments with pride. “Scrumptious, ain’t they? 
Dandier togs for this* place than a swell Wabash 
Avenue tailor’s would be for Chicago. Tell you how 
I got ’em. They used to issue us the meal in bags. 
I had to Account for all the bags issued, but I’d cut 
a bag in two, an’ count back each half for a whole 
bag. I got enough to make this suit for myself an’ 
one for Dwiggins, my partner, before the rebel Ser- 
geant got onto my little game. Make yourselves as 
comfortable as you can there. I’ve got to go now 
an’ draw the rations.” 

“Rations has a mighty pleasant sound,” said Si. 
“We’re all awful hungry, as well as tired.” 

He took his squad to the ground designated by the 
Sergeant, sat down upon it and looked around, but 
his eyes grew so tired of the misery and wretched- 
ness that met them everywhere that he quit looking, 
and began to think about what they could do to make 
their condition more tolerable. 

“I s’pose the first thing’s to take a good wash,” 
said he. “Le’s go down to the crick there an’ wash.” 

They found the shallow creek full of men — most 
of them stark naked, trying to remove, with sand 


IN THE ANDERSONVILLE STOCKADE. 


165 


and hard rubbing*, the grime deposited by the pitchy 
fires around which they had sat or done their meager 
cooking. No one had any soap, and it required the 
hardest rubbing to remove even a portion of the 
grime. To get really clean was impossible. 

There were the fewest near the bridge across the 
creek, and thither Si and the rest went. 

They had scarcely begun when the guard in the 
perch nearest fired directly into the crowd on the 
bridge. A man fell with his breast torn open by 
the heavy charge of buckshot.. The whole of the 
25,000 men inside the stockade rose at once to yell 
the fiercest curses at the murderous boy whose 
musket had done such deadly work. The vilest 
epithets that the English language permits were 
hurled at him in choruses of a thousand voices. The 
prisoners immediately around Si and Shorty and on 
the bridge sprang upon another prisoner, knocked 
him down, and began beating him. Instinctively Si 
and Shorty sprang to his rescue, and by vigorous 
knocking and flinging aside his assailants, succeeded 
in freeing him. 

“Great Scott, what are you all pilin' onto this one 
man for? Tryin’ to kill him?" Si asked indignantly 
of one of the assailants, whom he had by the throat. 

“He drawed the fire o' the guard onto the bridge, 
and had this boy killed," answered the man. “He 
ought to be killed himself, for havin' no more sense." 

“I didn’t do nothin’ at all," gasped the bleeding 
victim. “I was just reachin' up under the dead-line 
there to git a cup o’ clean water to drink. I didn't 
want to drink that from where the men was 
washin’." 

“Hadn’t you bin long enough in the prison to know 


166 


SI KLEGG. 


that you mustn’t make a motion toward the dead- 
line there? Didn’t you know that that whelp of a 
guard’s only wantin’ some sort of an excuse to fire 
into the crowd, and git a furlough home? If he’d 
only a’ killed you it’d bin all right, but you got an 
innocent man killed.” 

“Kill the hound,” shouted the others. “Kill him 
for havin’ no more sense.” 

But Si and Shorty took the man between them 
and walked to the other side, where he was speedily 
lost in the crowd. 

“Here’s your rations,” said Ike Deeble, when they 
returned, to the Fourteenth Detachment. He pro- 
duced four loaves of cornbread, about the size, shape 
and color of well-burned bricks. “There’s a half a 
loaf for each of you. That’s got to last you until 
tomorrow. I had great trouble in saving them for 
you. You must be sure after this to be on hand 
when rations are issued. It’s a grab-game all the 
time here.” 

Si and Shorty, from force of habit, wanted to 
build a little fire to get their meal by, but they had 
no wood. The men around them had each a little 
bundle of splinters, which they jealously hoarded. 
The partners remembered that they had no coffee to 
boil, so they munched their coarse cornbread, and 
made the best of it. As night fell, the others, ex- 
cessively weary with the fatigues and excitements 
of the day, stretched themselves out on the bare 
sand and went to sleep. 

Si and Shorty remained awake, canvassing the 
situation and prospects in low tones. 

“Well, we’ve never run up against nothin’ that 
seemed quite so tough as this,” said Si almost 


IN THE ANDERSONVILLE STOCKADE. 


167 


despairingly. “It comes mighty near knockin’ me 
in a heap.” 

“Well, there’s some way out,” said Shorty more 
hopefully. “We’ve got a wad o’ rebel money, an’ we 
kin do something with that, I’ll be bound. I got that 
old brindled steer’s nigger-money, that he made 
sich a howl about.” 

“You did, Shorty?” said Si, in amazement. “How 
in the world did you git it?” 

“Jist by follerin’ honest industry, while the rest o’ 
you fellers wuz sleepin’ the sleep of sloth and lazi- 
ness,” said Shorty in his superior way. “While that 
old poll-evil was snorin’ like a steamboat whistle, an’ 
the rest o’ you wuz keepin’ him in chorus, I snatched 
his leather, an’ ’ve got it hid in this old shoe. We’ll 
dig it out and tomorrow see if we can’t buy some- 
thing to help us out. This is a tough world, but 
the feller that works while others sleep will git 
along. What’s that piece o’ poetry? 

“ Tf you plow and reap 
While sluggards sleep, 

You’ll have corn to sell and keep’ 

“That’s me.” 

“Five hunderd dollars in Confederit money,” 
mused Si. “That’d send a man to the penitentiary 
for about five years. It would if we wuz in 
Injianny, an’ the money wuz good. But the laws o’ 
Injianny don’t go down here, no more’n anything 
else that’s civilized an’ decent does. I guess it’s all 
right. That old villain got the money for his nigger, 
an’ besides he stole our shoes. I guess it’s all right.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE BOYS GET A GOOD START FOR A “TENT.” 

B EFORE Si and Shorty lay down to sleep they 
unwrapped the paw-paw bark around Shorty’s 
shoe, took out the calf skin wallet, and cau- 
tiously examined its contents by the light of the rising 
moon. They found five new, crisp $100 Confederate 
notes, and a number of other bills of smaller denomi- 
nation, which were limp from use. 

“I guess there must be a couple hundred more in 
there,” said Shorty, making a mental estimate. “I 
must’ve got away with old Smoot’s whole wad o’ 
rhino, an’ he’ll have to beg or borry until next pay- 
day. I don’t care. I only wish it had bin 10 times 
as much. We’ll need it, an’ he deserves to lose it.” 

“Gracious — $700!” gasped Si, to whom that 
amount represented the price of a nice, snug little 
farm, or all the hogs and cattle that his father would 
have ‘marketed in a very good year. “Ain’t that an 
awful swipe to take from one man? You know I’ve 
got hardened to petty larceny — the kind o’ cribbin’ 
they send a man to jail for 30 days for up in Posey 
County, but I — I ain’t quite up yit to things that 
have a penitentiary smell about ’em. Of course, 

tain’t like it was greenbacks, but still $700 is” 

“O, bother and bow-wow,” Shorty broke in im- 
patiently. “I only wish it was $700,000. I only 
( 168 ) 


THE BOYS START A “TENT.” 


169 


wish I had a chance to snatch everything that every 
blamed rebel in the Southern Confederacy has. They 
haint no right to nothin’ — not even their evil souls. 
It’s agin the Constitution an’ laws o’ the United 
States for ’em to have anything. It’s a good soldier’s 
dooty to take it away, every chance he gits. The 
Ten Commandments don’t go south o’ the Ohio River. 
The rebels don’t pay no attention to ’em ; why should 
we? After seein’ the way they’re murderin’ men 
here, I shouldn’t think you’d hav qualms about any- 
thing, Si Klegg. Here, you take these three $100 
bills and pin ’em inside your shirt, for future use. 
I’ll do the same with the other two. Here’s about 
half o’ the small bills. We’ll put ’em in our pockets 
for market money. Let’s see what else is in this old 
calf skin.” 

They went over to where a pine-knot was blazing 
in front of one of the sleeping places, and by its light 
and that of the moon, succeeded in making out that 
most of the papers were those connected with the 
Justice’s office — writs, subpoenas, summonses, etc., 
crudely printed blanks, headed: “State of Georgia, 
County of Coweta, ss.,” and filled out in still cruder 
handwriting, with returns on the backs. 

“Better burn ’em all up, hadn’t we?” said Shorty, 
with a motion toward the fire. “They’d be bad evi- 
dence if found on me.” 

“Don’t seem right to burn legal papers,” demurred 
Si. “Seems much worse’n stealin’. May hurt some 
innocent party awfully to have the papers gone. 
I’ve read about that in books. Better stick ’em away 
somewhere so’s they’ll be found jist in time to save 
some innocent man from bein’ hung, or havin’ his 
farm took away.” 


170 


SI KLEGG. 


‘Til keep 'em awhile,” said Shorty, putting the 
papers into the wallet, “and study what to do with 
'em.” 

“The first thing to do,” said Si, the next morning 
after they had washed at the creek, taken a com- 
prehensive view of the surroundings, and noted how 
the sun had come up like a great, scorching ball of 
fire, “is to git some kind o' kivver. Layin’ out-doors 
with nothin' but the clouds for a roof and bedclothes 
may do well enough when you’re on a march or a 
scout, but it don't seem quite Christian as a stiddy 
thing. Even the cattle in the field git under a tree 
when they kin, an' it’s a mighty mean man that 
don't leave a tree or two in his pasture, which is 
more'n these consarned rebels'Ve done. I wonder if 
they’re ackshelly white men and human bein's ? 
Seems to me sometimes they’re mostly nigger and 
Injun.” 

He and Shorty anxiously studied the thousands of 
shelters crowding the interior of the stockade for 
some useful hints as to the architecture of their pro- 
posed abode. They saw every conceivable method 
by which ingenuity could be made to eke out the 
slenderest materials. Most of these were blankets 
stretched, shelter-tent fashion, over upright sticks. 
Generally, the boys slept on these blankets at night, 
and made “tents” of them by day. Only those who 
were lucky enough to have more than one blanket 
could afford to keep one up all the time. Some had 
been so fortunate as to bring their shelter-tents as 
well as blankets in with them, and these were the 
well-to-do residents of the settlement. The white 
muslin shone out in gleaming contrast with the dingy 
blankets. Many had tried to increase the room 


THE BOYS START A “TENT.” 


171 


under their shelters by digging into the ground, and 
by building up walls of clay and sticks. The older 
prisoners had mostly shacks, made by sticking four 
poles into the ground and fastening them together 
by other poles, upon which they laid a thatch of long- 
leaved pine-tufts. But there had been little oppor- 
tunity to get these materials in the later days. There 
were no trees inside the stockade, and the pines in 
the vicinity of the prison pen were rapidly dis- 
appearing. 

“That seems to be the style o’ thing we’ve got to 
come to,” said Si, pointing to Ike Deeble’s “tent.” 
“An’ it suits my idees better’n anything else. But 
how are we goin’ to git the stuff? There’s plenty of 
it in them woods out there, an’ if we was only let 
loose with an ax we could fix ourselves up in great 
shape before sundown. I can’t see why these beasts 
won’t turn us loose an’ give us a chance.” 

“Let’s go up and talk to Ike Deeble,” said Shorty. 
“He’ll give us pints on how to go about it.” 

“No use, boys,” said Deeble. “You can’t get out 
now. When we first came here there was plenty o’ 
that stuff lying ’round, an’ for a button or two you 
could get a guard to take you out and let you pick 
up all you could carry in. But they’ve stopped that. 
You can’t get out now, except on a written pass from 
Capt. Wirz, an’ there’s no use asking that old Dutch 
varmint for a pass. If you were dying it wouldn’t 
make any difference to him. He sees too many men 
dying every day to care as much for them as we 
used to for dead mules. I don’t know of but one 
man who’s got a written pass, and that’s a Pennsyl- 
vania boy who gathers shoomake berries for the 
doctor to cure scurvy with.” 


172 


SI KLEGG. 


“A written pass,” said Shorty to himself, a 
thought striking him, which made him feel the 
wallet. “Say, Si, these yahoos can’t read. Maybe 
we can work some of our tricks on ’em.” 

“Yes,” said Si dubiously, not yet catching the 
drift. 

“I wonder if we can’t work some o’ these legal 
papers off for passes?” said Shorty, pulling out the 
wallet. “They’re big medicine in their way, an’ kin 
pull stronger’n a four-horse team at times. They 
orter git away with a guard if properly presented.” 

“Twouldn’t do no harm to try it,” said Si reflectively. 
“The guard couldn’t more’n order you off his beat or 
knock you down. He oughtn’t to do that much to a 
man caryin’ a regular writ.” 

“Let’s look ’em over and pick out one,” said 
Shorty, opening the wallet. “I’ll go down there to 
the gate an’ try it while you keep the book. If it 
goes we’ll work off the whole raft on ’em. If it 
don’t — if the feller’s too fly for me — why, it’ll be 
the only one I have, an’ I’ll improve the long-haired 
goober-grabber’s mind with a finely constructed yarn 
as to how I came by it.” 

The two looked over the collection of papers, and 
finally selected one which read, in print and badly 
scrawled penmanship : 


State of Georgia, 

County of Coweta. 

June the 1st, 1864. 

To any Constable of said County , greetings: 

You are hereby commanded to proceed forthwith 
to the premises of Jakob Pancake and thar seize & 
distrain one fat hog, or 2 medium-sized shotes, or 



THE BOYS START A “TENT. 


173 


his yearling calf, or such other stock or property 
that will be fully & compleat. Satisfaction for a 
Judgmint for 4 dollars & 18 cents, obtained in this 
court agin Sed Pancake, by Solomon Dinky. 

Fail not on your peril, 

Silas Smoots, 

Justice of the Peace 

for Coweta County. 

Si put the wallet in his pocket and followed after 
Shorty down to the South Gate. 

Shorty pushed his way thru the crowd until he 
came to the opening in the dead-line for the gate, 
and then glanced around to see if there happened 
to be any rebel officers present who looked able to 
read writing. He saw none, and stepped boldly up 
to the sentry, a slender, long-haired, round-shoul- 
dered man, who stood in the open space, guarding 
the wicket of the great gates, and with a confident 
air, showed him the writ. Impressed by his man- 
ner, the guard took the paper, scowled at it as if 
reading it thru, and handed it back, with a motion 
to Shorty to pass the wicket. 

Shorty calmly walked thru, before the envious 
eyes of the rest of the prisoners, as if doing the 
thing that he had an entire right to do. Si saw his 
success with a little heart-sickening, for he thought 
he had bidden good-by to his partner, who would 
lose no time in making his way to Sherman’s lines. 
He walked back to his squad wrestling with the 
temptation to do the same thing himself the next 
morning, and leave the rest of his boys to take care 
of themselves. But he conquered this when he 
looked upon the fresh boyish faces of his squad, 


174 


SI KLEGG. 


turned upon him in anxious inquiry, and realized 
how much they depended upon him. 

‘Til have to stick to these boys thru thick and 
thin,” he decided for himself. “But tomorrow Fll 
take another o’ them papers an’ try the same game. 
If I git out, Fll surely come back, an’ bring all I kin 
carry to make the boys comfortable.” 

The outer gates were open, and Shorty walked 
unchecked out into the open space lying between the 
fort, the breastworks, the stockade, and the creek. 
Rebel officers, soldiers, negros, paroled prisoners, and 
others, were passing in various directions, at work, 
on business or duty, or simply loafing from one place 
to another. Shorty steadied himself to look and act 
as they did. He even passed Capt. Wirz, who 
scowled inquiringly at him, but Shorty was too bold 
a dissembler to allow any discomposure to be evi- 
denced in his face, and walked steadily on, while 
Wirz forgot about him the next instant, in a fume 
he got into over something that the Reserves were 
doing or not doing. 

Beyond the fort Shorty turned to the left, for that 
would bring him soonest to the woods. 

As he drew near there came an irresistible im- 
pulse to take to his heels and leave the stockade and 
all its horrors far behind him. It seemed as if the 
vile odor of the place would stifle him if he went 
back. He struggled for awhile with himself, and 
then said firmly: 

“No ; Fll go back. Fd be a coward to desert little 
Pete an’ Si an’ the boys. Pete’ll die in there in a 
week if I don’t take care o’ him.” 

“It’s all right,” he mused more cheerfully. “I 
think Providence protects an’ helps them what does 


THE BOYS START A “TENT.” 


175 


their dooty. The feller that tries to do right always 
ketches the most trumps in the deal. It’s my dooty 
to go back in there to the boys, an’ I’ll do it if it takes 
my hair and toenails. I believe Providence’ll stand 
by me if I do.” 

He was passing at the time a gang of negros en- 
gaged in felling timber to construct another stock- 
ade around the original one. Part of them had laid 
down their axes to roll together some of the logs they 
had cut. In an instant one of the axes was up under 
Shorty’s blouse. 

“What’d I tell you about Providence?” he chuckled 
to himself, as he put as much distance as he could 
between himself and the gang before the loss should 
be discovered. “Jist the minute I made up my mind 
to do the square thing, Providence gave me the tip 
to git the thing of all others I’ve bin wonderin’ where 
an’ how in the world I’d git. I tell you, a feller’s 
a cussed fool that don’t believe in an overrulin’ 
Providence. I’ll bet on it every time, an’ give odds.” 

“Say, cull,” called a voice over the left, “let me 
give you a little advice. Either steal a shorter ax or 
wear a longer blouse. The handle o’ that one’s 
stickin’ down a foot.” 

Shorty looked in the direction of the voice, and 
saw a man in Union uniform — a prisoner on parole, 
detailed to do work outside the stockade. • 

“I saw you lift that ax,” he said, “an’ you done 
it very neatly. Couldn’t ’ve done it better myself. 
But if you expect to git back into the stockade with 
it you’ve got to hide it lots better’n that. They’re 
mighty partickler about letting axes git into the 
stockade. You look like fresh fish. What regiment 
do you belong to?” 


176 


SI KLEGG. 


“Co. Q, 200th Ind” 

“The devil you do? Why, that’s in our division. 
Bully boys they are. I belong to the Kankakee 
Rangers. I was wounded and taken last December, 
when Thomas made that reconnoissance out to Rocky 
Face Ridge. Let’s set down in the shade there and 
have a talk. I’ve got something to eat which I’ll 
divide with you.” 

Shorty accepted the invitation' and the two inter- 
changed army news and prison information as they 
ate. 

“I’m out on parole,” said Hank Stivers, “.from the 
hospital. I’m getherin’ blackberry root, sassafras 
root, dogwood bark, wild cherry bark, white oak 
bark, slippery elm bark, and sich things for the doc- 
tor to make medicine out of. I know a good deal 
about herbs and barks, a great deal more’n any o’ 
these sandhill crackers down here, and so the doctors 
set me at it. You’re out here after stuff to make a 
tent? You’d better go down there where you’ll find 
plenty of poles. Nobody’s bin down there. But look 
out ! Here comes old Pilcher with the hounds. Keep 
your wits about you now, or you’ll git into trouble. 
Leave me to do the rest o’ the lying. Don’t speak 
onless you have to. The dogs’ve taken your trail and 
brung him onto you.” 

A surly-faced man trotted up on a mule. He held 
in his hand a cow’s horn, scraped almost to the thin- 
ness of thick paper. On this he gave signals to the 
dogs which were careering thru the woods as he 
rode along, and now came swarming around the 
prisoners, barking, yelping and sniffing to catch their 
scent. 

“Hyah, yo’ sneakin’ Yanks,” blustered the man, 


THE BOYS START A “TENT.” 


177 


with many oaths, “what’re yo’ doin’ outside o’ limits? 
Don’t yo’ know yo’re more’n a mile from camp? 
Git back up and git thar now. I’ll done take yo’ up 



l : _ ^ 

“HE,” SAID STIVERS, “IS MY HELPER.” 


afore the Cappen and he’ll give yo’ a dose of the 
chain-gang.” 

“Why, Capt. Pilcher,” said Stivers placatorily, 
“you know that I’ve got a right to go more’n a mile 
from camp. You know I’ve got to hunt around 
everywhere for medicine for the doctors, and they 


178 


SI KLEGG. 


got the Captain to allow me to go three miles from 
camp. That’s said in my pass. You ought to re- 
member it, for you’ve read it several times already. 
See here. Read it again.” 

The coarse, churlish “goober-grabber” who was 
master of the hounds at Andersonville, was as ignor- 
ant of reading and writing as he was of Egyptian 
hieroglyphics, but it suited the purpose to pretend 
that he was quite capable of reading the pass which 
Stivers handed him. 

“Hit’s so. I done forgot,” he said, after pretend- 
ing to carefully scan the pass and working his mouth 
as if he were reading each word. Well, what on 
earth air yo’ settin’ ’round doin’ nothin for? Why 
ain’t yo’ ’tendin’ ter yo’ bizness ? I orter take yo’ in 
fer that e’e. Who’s this other man ?” 

“He,” said the unblushing Stivers, “is my helper. 
I got the doctors to give me one this mornin’. There’s 
more work than I kin do, with all the sickness in 
the hospital, so they had him detailed.” 

“Whar’s yo’ pass?” he demanded of Shorty. 
Shorty produced the writ of attachment, which 
Pilcher scrutinized with great care. “Hit’s different 
from yours,” he said, scowling suspiciously at 
Stivers. 

“Yes,” answered Stivers, placidly. “It lets him 
come out from the stockade, you see, just after roll 
call — you’ll notice that about roll call, written in 
between the lines, and stay out until retreat, and go 
anywhere within three miles o’ the stockade.” 

“What’s he doin’ with that air ax?” 

“I had to have an ax to git the bark off the trees. 
I told the doctors I couldn’t git along without an ax. 


THE BOYS START A “TENT.” 


179 


A knife and a hatchet wouldn’t do. I had to have 
an ax for the big trees.” 

The master of the hounds still scowled. 

“By the way, Cap,” continued Stivers, pleasantly, 
“I just remember that I lost $10 on that bet I made 
with you the last time I saw you. Here it is. I 
should’ve given it to you before.” 

He handed him a $10 Confederate note. Pilcher’s 
face took a pleasanter look. 

“Well, go to work, now, boys,” he said, as he re- 
mounted his mule and started off with his dogs. 
“Hustle around, an’ git back to the camp as soon’s 
you kin.” 

“There’s the man I want to hang with my own 
hands when our boys come down here,” said Stivers, 
shaking his fist after him with a volley of impreca- 
tions not loud but deep. 

“There’s a villain that deserves the lowest pit of 
hell every day in the week. Heavens, how I’d like 
to sink him down there, an’ put a ton of rock on him, 
so that he wouldn’t git out as long as the world 
lasts.” 

“Why, I don’t understand,” said Shorty. 

“Well, you will understand, soon enough,” said 
Stivers. “That hell-hound is meaner even than old 
Wirz himself. He likes to set the dogs on boys an’ 
tear them to pieces. They bit my own chum so that 
he died in awful shape. You saw me give him 
money, I paid him $10 — $5 for each of us. That’s 
the way he blackmails all of us paroled prisoners. 
Every little while he drops on us for money. If . we 
don’t pay him something, he makes it hot for us, an’ 
finds some way soon to land us in that infernal chain- 
gang, send us back to the stockade, or mebbe kill us 


180 


SI KLEGG. 


outright. The scum of perdition. I saw at once he 
had it in for me, an’ so I promptly coughed up for 
both of us. We’ll be all right for some weeks now, 
till he thinks it about time to assess me again. But 
you’d better git your poles an’ git back to camp. 
I don’t know how long you kin play that writ trick, 
but I’ll keep a lookout for you tomorrow.” 

“Here, let me pay you the $5 you paid for me, an’ 
much obliged to you,” said Shorty, producing a bill 
from his stock. “How in the world do you git money 
down here?” 

“0,” said Stivers with an expressive shrug, “these 
rebels think they kin play poker.” 

“I understand,” said Shorty. “Costliest think 
that a man kin have.” 

“They play a better game than they did,” con- 
tinued Stivers, “but Great Jerusalem Crickets, that 
ain’t sayin’ much. They could hardly play a worse 
one. Even now, they couldn’t play with the lance- 
teamsters an’ brevet cooks o’ the old division. Yet 
they are dead set on gamblin’. It’s all right, though. 
They skin our prisoners out o’ every dollar they 
have, either by downright highway robbery, or some 
other skull-duggery. We only git away from ’em 
what was never theirs by rights. I tell you, a rebel 
has mighty little show for his money that sets down 
with me. But I must hustle ’round, an’ find some 
yarbs to take in. Hope to see you tomorrow.” 

A couple of hours later Shorty was staggering 
toward the stockade under a load of poles and 
boughs weighing the very last limit that he could 
carry. He could only go a few rods, before having 
to stop and rest. Arriving at the gate, the Sergeant 
of the Guard there commanded: 


THE BOYS START A "TENT.” 


181 


"Hold on thar! Lay that bundle down and open 
hit out, that I kin see what yo’ got inside o’ hit.” 

Shorty was rapidly learning the ways of Ander- 
sonville. He rested his bundle on the ground, fanned 
himself with a tuft of pine-top, and under its cover 
dropped a $5 Confederate bill in the Sergeant’s hand, 
which closed on it with the instantaneous certainty 
only acquired by long practice. 

"Hit’s all right, I reckon,” said the Sergeant limit- 
ing his examination of the bundle to a perfunctory 
kick at it. "Pick hit up thar, and git inside at once.” 

Si had settled down into the gloomy conviction 
that his partner was finally gone, and was canvass- 
ing the dismal probabilities as to whether he was 
being chased by dogs, shot down by vicious citizens 
and guerrillas, or already recaptured and consigned 
to the horrible chain-gang. He and the rest of the 
squad were seated on the ground in a circle, munch- 
ing their coarse cornbread. Si, lost in his own 
thoughts, said nothing. The rest only spoke at in- 
tervals and in low tones, for they were oppressed by 
Si’s evident distress. 

There was a rustle among the crowd down the 
little street, and some unusual exclamations, which 
caused Si to look up. He saw a great bundle of 
green pushing its way thru the crowd, and the 
next minute Shorty staggered up, let his load roll off 
his shoulders, and then fell to the ground with it in 
utter exhaustion. 

"There it is, boys,” gasped Shorty, as he recovered 
his breath. "I brung every leaf I could carry. If it 
had weighed another ounce or I’d had to go another 
step I’d never made it.” 


182 


SI KLEGG. 


While he rested, the boys did a war dance of joy 
around him. They were overjoyed to see him back. 

Si turned over the bundle with an effort and looked 
at it. It was a bundle of poles and tufts of pine- 
leaves, bound together with withes, grape-vines and 
briars. 

“Open it up, boys,” said Shorty. “It’s a good start 
for our house. Don’t cut the withes. We’ll need ’em 
all.” 

Si carefully undid the bindings, and found inside 
the precious ax, and two fairly good U. S. blankets. 

“I got over toward the other crick,” said Shorty, 
noticing Si’s look of inquiry as to the latter, “an’ 
heard voices. I crawled thru the brush, an’ saw a 
couple o’ rebels in swimmin’ in the crick. They’d 
left their blankets an’ clothes on the bank. The 
clothes was no good, but I yanked the blankets. 
We’ll not sleep on the ground tonight.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


EACH DAY BRINGS FRESH EXPERIENCES TO THE BOYS. 

T HE arrival of Shorty with his burden brought 
an electrical change in the current of Si’s 
thoughts. The conversion of the materials 
into a shelter for the squad became his dominant 
impulse. He had built shacks before, and so he did 
not waste much time in studying the architectural 
designs. 

“Here, Harry,” he said, handing the youth one of 
the poles ; “take this an’ dig a hole with your knife 
about a foot deep, right here,” and he indicated the 
furthest limit of the ground assigned them, “an’ set 
it in straight, an’ pack the dirt down around it 
hard.” 

Gid Mackall, Monty Scruggs and Alf Russell re- 
ceived similar instructions for the other three cor- 
ners, and in a few minutes the four uprights were 
in place. Then Si fastened them together with other 
poles, tied with the withes and vines. 

“You’ve got the bones o’ the house put together 
in very good shape,” said Shorty, looking at the 
work critically. “The next thing’s to git the skin an’ 
meat on. It’ll take a good many back-loads o’ this 
truck to make the roof an’ sides.” 

“I’ll go out tomorrow an’ help you,” said Si. “If 
we each bring in a load it will go a long way toward 
(183) 


184 


SI KLEGG. 


finishing up the house, and protecting us from the 
sun an’ rain.” 

They spread out the boughs to make a mattress 
upon which to lay their blankets. Then Shorty, who 
was dead tired from the exertions of the day, 
crawled in. The rest sat around awhile, and talked 
over Shorty’s achievement, and how they would go 
on and perfect their establishment, until they had 
exhausted the subject, and then crawled in behind 
Shorty, little Pete taking his place next to Shorty, 
while Si lay on the other end of the line, bringing all 
the boys between him and Shorty. They lay down on 
their right sides and “spooned” close together, to 
make the blankets reach them all. 

“Scrouge up there, boys,” Si commanded. 
“Straighten out, you haint got a 10-acre lot to lay 
in, Harry Joslyn. Take that hump out o’ your back, 
Alf Russell. Sandy Baker, you can’t curl up like a 
dog in leaves, as you do in a feather bed at home. 
Straighten out. The blanket don’t come in a foot 
o’ me.” 

“Don’t scrouge up any more, boys,” moaned little 
Pete. “Pm as thin as a ribbon now, and my gallus 
buttons, before and behind, are grinding my innards 
between ’em.” 

But Si was inexorable. He instructed them that 
when they were tired of lying on their right side to 
say so, and he would command “Left Spoon,” when 
they must all turn over at once. 

They slept fairly well thru the night, except for 
a violent dash of rain which came up quickly, 
as was customary in that trying month of June in 
Andersonville. The rain would come down in tor- 
rents for a few minutes, and then the sun would as 


EACH DAY BRINGS FRESH EXPERIENCES. 185 


suddenly burst out from behind the clouds, and 
literally scald them. The damp men were awakened 
at early dawn by the rebel drums outside beating the 
reveille, and the fifes screeching the perennial, 
aggravating ‘‘Bonnie Blue Flag,” the only tune which 
the rebel fifers knew, and they could not play even 
that well. 

“Blast their old flag,” grumbled Si, as he arose, 
rubbed his eyes, and gathered some of the scattered 
pine-tufts together. “Tain’t blue, it’s got more’n a 
single star, an’ I’m blamed if it’s bonnie — hello, 
where’s our tent gone?” 

They all looked around. The sticks which they 
laboriously erected the night before had disappeared. 

“Yes, and one of our blankets is gone, too,” yelled 
Shorty, after hunting about for the one which they 
had over them. “Plumb stole away while we wuz 
snorin’ ! What infernal thieves have we fell among? 
Steal from their own comrades while they’re asleep ! 
Pull a man’s house up by the roots an’ carry it off 
from over his head, while he’s in bed, an’ take his 
bed-clothes to boot! Lord, how I hate a thief, 
especially one that takes away what another man’s 
got by honest labor. The feller that took away that 
blanket’d steal the coppers off’n a dead nigger’s eyes. 
A man that’d steal a blanket’d” 

Then he remembered how he ' had gotten the 
blankets himself, and added in a lower tone: 

“Well, I only stole ’em from rebels, an’ it’s all 
right to steal from them. Besides, they’d stole ’em 
from our men. But if I kin ketch the feller that stole 
that blanket from me I’ll pound the head offen him. 
The low-lived, ornery thief.” 

“The chances of ketchin’ him,” said Si, philos- 


186 


SI KLEGG. 


ophically, as he surveyed the swarm of 25,000 men 
incarcerated in the stockade, “are about equal to 
goin’ to an ant-hill an’ pickin’ out the partickler little 
varmint that’s bin nibblin’ at your sugar. The 
blanket’s gone, an’ the feller with it. Our pole’s 
gone, an’ the feller’s with ’em. We’ve got to make 
the best of it. I’ll go out today an’ bring in a load.” 

“Humph,” snorted Shorty, “ketch me goin’ out 
agin to break my back carryin’ in truck for other 
snoozers to lug off while the rest o’ you fellers lay 
’round an’ snore.” 

“Come, Shorty,” expostulated Si. “Don’t be un- 
reasonable. Don’t waste any time cryin’ over spilt 
milk. The fellers here knowed we wuz greenhorns, 
an’ they took advantage of it. It’ll learn us a lesson. 
They can’t play that trick on us agin.” 

“What are you goin’ to do?” inquired the unpaci- 
fied Shorty. “Rivet the poles to the ground ? Grow 
roots on ’em ? Fasten ’em with a padlock an’ staple ? 
Set up all night to guard ’em. I’m goin’ to look thru 
the camp to find ’em, an’ I’ll make the feller that got 
’em mighty sick, as sure’s you’re a foot high.” 

“It’ll jist be a waste o’ time,” Si persisted. “A 
feller that’s got sense enough to git away with them 
things when we wuz sleep, is smart enough to hide 
’em where you kin never find ’em. Let’s go down 
to the crick an’ wash, an’ after roll call I’ll try the 
pass racket, an’ if I git out, I’ll bring in nearly as 
big a load as you did, an’ we’ll git a fresh start on 
our house.” 

Shorty followed his partner down to the creek, but 
still persisted in his maledictions against men who 
were mean enough to steal a house right from over 
the owner’s heads, and in his determination to hunt 


EACH DAY BRINGS FRESH EXPERIENCES. 187 


the thieves down, no matter how long it took. He 
kept looking eagerly at every shack for signs of his 
property. 

To get to the creek they had to pass down the nar- 
row street upon which they lived, to that entering 
from the South Gate, which there broadened into a 
large open space, into which the wagons were driven 
to issue rations. On the other side of this “Ration 
Place” the street continued on down the slope to the 
creek. On these slopes, both sides of the creek, were 
the densest crowds in the prison. The prisoners who 
had been put in first had occupied the high ground 
on the north and south sides, farthest from the creek, 
and at the ends of the stockade. There each “detach- 
ment” had a certain space allotted to it. It was just 
enough to allow each man about as much room as 
would be sufficient for his grave, but those belonging 
to the detachment allowed no others to take up quar- 
ters there, so that they had much more room for 
themselves than there was in the central part of the 
prison, where the crowds were forced in like cattle 
into a pen, until there was scarcely room for them to 
lie down, even when they “spooned” closely. 

The slopes down to the edge of the noisome swamp 
bordering the creek were so packed with men that 
the ground could not be seen anywhere. The unhappy 
occupants, mostly later arrivals in the prison from 
the Army of the Potomac, were in as incessant 
motion as a crate of eels. Only a portion had shelter 
of any kind. Most had been robbed of everything 
but two or three necessary garments in the long 
journey from Richmond thru Virginia, North and 
South Carolina and Georgia, to Andersonville. They 
had nothing in which to draw their rations, nothing 


188 


SI KLEGG. 


to shelter them from the burning sun, nothing on 
which to lie down, no settled place for lying down. 
They simply wandered back and forth, as long as 
their strength lasted, stopping wherever they could 
find a vacant place, until driven from it by the 
arrival of the rightful owner of that particular plot. 
Many were absolutely naked, and hundreds could 
be seen in this state, lying on the bare sands exposed 
to the full fierceness of the burning sun and the 
drench of the dashing rain deluges, with their 
emaciated bodies horribly contorted by the scurvy 
and dropsy, and slowly dying thru days of unutter- 
able agony. 

They had no comrades to care for them. Either 
they were the only ones captured from their regi- 
ments or their comrades had died and left them 
friendless. Everybody else had all he could do to 
take care of himself and of the boys of his own com- 
pany and regiment. He could do nothing for men 
who had no claims upon him. There was always a 
little clear space around where these miserable un- 
fortunates lay, like that around some perishing 
beast, for the ground was so vile with filth and ver- 
min that it was avoided even by those who could 
find nowhere else to lay their heads. The only care 
the poor wretches got was from a band of devoted 
Christian workers, whose love of Christ and their 
fellow-man was so strong that they shrank from no 
duty, no matter how noisome and repugnant, that 
should be performed in His name. These made 
occasional rounds to the poor, friendless ones, 
washed their faces, helped them turn into more com- 
fortable positions, cleansed away a portion of the 
swarming, devouring vermin that tormented them, 


EACH DAY BRINGS FRESH EXPERIENCES. 189 


ana performed whatever other offices that were in 
their meager power. 

Sights of this kind were stirring Shorty to think 
of something else than his wrath, as he made his 
way down the crowded slope, and scanned the 
swarming wretchedness for some signs of his poles 
and blanket. 

Near the bottom of the slope the crowd thinned 
out. There the ground began to be very damp; it 
was overflowed by the washings of the higher 
ground, every time the rain came down in a torrent, 
and the bordering swamp was so fetid that no one 
would stay there who could possibly find any other 
place. 

Shorty’s rage flamed up again, as he saw at a 
little distance in this “pauper district” of the prison 
a new “tent,” made by hoisting a blanket on poles. 
He recognized the blanket as his by its having one 
corner burnt off in a peculiar way. The poles were 
freshly-cut and green, and there could be no doubt 
that there was his property. 

He strode fiercely over there thru the crowd of 
abject unfortunates, with Si and the rest following. 
He had a torrent of angry vituperation fuming at 
his lips for the thieves, and his fists doubled to ad- 
minister exemplary punishment upon them. As he 
drew near, two tall, gant boys, their eyes looking 
preternaturally large and bright in their sallow 
faces, their livid gums protruding beyond their lips, 
from the first horrible effects of scurvy, rose, picked 
up clubs made from the remaining portions of the 
poles, and offered battle in defense of their home. 
The only clothing of each were a shirt and pair of 
drawers, worn and soiled from lying on the bare 


190 


SI KLEGG. 


ground, and their thin, bony limbs showed thru the 
rents. Their expression showed that they had ex- 
pected the discovery and attempted reclamation of 
property, but were ready to fight to the death to 
prevent it. 

The torrent of curses died on Shorty’s lips, as he 
stopped and surveyed them. 

“What do you fellers want?” screamed one of 
them, brandishing his club as defiantly as his little 
strength would permit. Don’t you dare try to steal 
our blanket. We’ll mash your brains out if you do. 
You can’t raid us, you whelps! Our partner’s in 
there, mighty sick, and he mustn’t be disturbed. Go 
’way, before we make you. You raiders have taken 
everything else we- had, but you shan’t take this. 
We’ll kill you if you try it. Go ’way, we tell you.” 

Shorty looked at them pityingly. 

“You say your pardner’s in there mighty sick?” 
he inquired in a gentle voice. 

“Yes,” said the man, relinquishing his menacing 
attitude, for the sympathetic tone disarmed him, and 
tears came into his eyes. “Look in there, and you 
kin see him for yourself ; but don’t say nothin’. He’s 
awful weak, and the least excitement may kill him.” 

Shorty and Si looked in. There, lying on the damp 
ground, was a tall, slender man, older than any of 
them, as indicated by the long growth of silky beard. 
In spite of the distortion of the scurvy the face was 
seen to be one of education and refinement. The 
long, tangled hair fell over a broad, full forehead, 
and the large, brown eyes opened with an expres- 
sion of deepest pathos. 

“Come over here a little ways where he can’t 
hear,” said the man, “and I’ll tell you all about him. 


EACH DAY BRINGS FRESH EXPERIENCES. 191 


That man’s one o’ the best God ever made. He was * 
just ordained in the ministry when the war broke 
out, and was minister to a church in our town. He 
enlisted and was Orderly-Sergeant of our company. 
There couldn’t be a better soldier or a better man. 
He’s as gentle as a woman, and as brave as a lion. 
There was eight of our company taken the first day 



in the Wilderness, and we’re all that’s left. The 
Orderly’s wore himself out nursin’ them that’s gone. 
He was as good as a woman could’ve bin, and was 
patient with them when we wuz impatient, and now 
he’s goin’. We could git nothin’ to cover the others 
nor for them to lay on, but last night we wuz des- 
perate. We found where some of them new fellers 


192 


SI KLEGG. 


had brung in a lot o’ stuff. They didn’t need it half 
so bad as we did, for they wuz fresh and strong, and 
had a good place to lay. So we waited till they went 
to sleep and stole it, not for ourselves, but for the 
Orderly. And we’re goin’ to keep it for him as long 
as he lives, or die tryin’.” 

A gleam of the old fierceness returned to his tear- 
stained eyes. 

“Boys, that stuff was our’s,” said Shorty, “an’ I’m 
glad you took it. You keep it. If any low-down 
snoozer attempts to git it away from you, come right 
up into the Fourteenth Detachment an’ let me know. 
I’ll welt his thievin’ head offen him in a holy minute. 
Here’s $10 Confed. Go over there onto the North 
Side, where them fellers are sellin’ things, an’ see if 
you can’t buy some bean soup, or something else 
that your pardner would like. I’m goin’ up to our 
tent an’ bring you down our pine boughs to lift him 
off this damp ground. Then me an’ my pardner here 
will ditch your tent, an’ keep the wash offen you. 
Mebbe we kin save your pardner’s life.” 

“It’s time for me to git back to roll call,” sug- 
gested Si. “Then we must try to git out after more 
stuff.” 

After roll call, which meant simply standing in 
the ranks of their squad of 90 to be counted, for the 
rebels did not venture upon such accomplished book- 
keeping as having a list of the names of the prison- 
ers, Shorty gathered up all their pine boughs and 
carried them down to the men to put under their 
comrade. 

“We’ll go down there this evenin’,” he said, “an’ 
put a ditch around their tent, an’ help them in any 
other way that we kin. Them boys is good sol- 


EACH DAY BRINGS FRESH EXPERIENCES. 193 

diers, an’ they ought to live. I believe that Provi- 
dence helps them that helps themselves an’ others. 
I’m goin’ to make a great big bluff at Him an’ see if 
He won’t stand by us to the limit. We’ll every one 
of us try to git out on them papers, an’ if we do, 
we’ll bring back enough stuff to set us up in house- 
keepin’ in good shape. We’ll leave Alf Russell in 
here to hold the ground for us, for they may steal 
that from us if we don’t watch it. He can’t carry 
much, anyhow, and he kin keep the wallet, which we 
may need in the future, an’ it won’t do to risk it on 
any o’ us.” 

A reconnoissance of the sentry at the gate showed 
him to be of about the same intellectual caliber as 
his predecessor of the day before. Shorty worked 
his ax off the handle, and suspended it under his 
shiit by a string around his neck. After directing 
the boys where to find him, giving each of them a 
writ to use as a pass, and directing them to come 
out one after another with about a half-hour interval 
between them, he took the ax handle in his hand and 
presented his writ to the sentry standing at the 
wicket. The guard made a pretense of reading it, 
and motioned him to pass thru the wicket. He made 
his way to the place he had been the day before, 
restored his ax to its handle, and was soon busily 
engaged in cutting material for their shack. Soon 
Si joined him, and then Monty Scruggs came. A 
little later Sandy Baker and Pete Skidmore put in 
an appearance. Gid Mackall did not get out until 
they had cut and collected all they could carry, and 
were making it up into bundles. 

“Didn’t I tell you Providence would smile on us,” 


7 


194 


SI KLEGG. 


said the elated Shorty, as G,id showed up. “He 
always sides with fellers o’ the right sort, an’ I 
knowed He wouldn’t go back on us today. Hello, 
here comes that scoundrel of a Pilcher, with his 
hounds. Lord, how I’d like to feed that scalawag to 
a thrashing-machine. I will some day, you mark 
me. Now all you fellers keep your mouths shut, an’ 
let me work him.” 

The dog-boss came up with a scowl on his face 
and words of abuse on his lips. He gave little Pete 
a cut with his long whip, which made the boy howl 
with pain, and Shorty grind his teeth with rage. But 
he constrained himself with a mighty effort, and 
said pleasantly to the rascal: 

“Hello, Captain; you see we’re out here at work 
again, as I told you yesterday. The doctors sent us 
out.” 

Pilcher growled curses, to which Shorty paid no 
attention, but remarked: 

“Cap, a friend o’ yours inside said he owed you 
$20, an’ asked me to bring it to you when I come 
out. Here it is.” 

He produced two new $10 Confederate notes, at 
the sight of which Pilcher’s face softened. He took 
the notes and growled, but more amiably: 

“Hit’s hardly enough. Thar’s six o’ yo’uns.” 

“That’s so,” said Shorty, as if the fact had just 
struck him. “Well, we’ll be out agin tomorrow, an’ 
then we’ll make it up.” 

“See that yo’ do,” growled Pilcher, remounting 
his mule. “Ef you don’t hit’ll be the wuss for yo’uns. 
You know I don’t stand no foolishness from yo’ 
Yanks. Don’t yo’uns go out a step furder’n yo’uns 
now is. Mind me!” 


EACH DAY BRINGS FRESH EXPERIENCES. 195 


“All right, Cap,” said Shorty, cheerfully. “We’re 
thru, an’ goin’ right in now. See you tomorrow.” 

“An’ I’ll see you sometime soon, when I’ll feed 
yo’ onery carkiss to the buzzards, yo’ spawn o’ the 
evil one,” he continued, shaking his fist at the back 
of the receding dog-leader. “I’ll make you shed a 
drop of blood fer every tear you’ve brought into this 
poor boy’s eyes. Pick up your loads, boys, an’ let’s 
git back into the stockade as quick as we kin. The 
next thing’s to git our house up.” 

It cost Shorty $10 “Confed’ ” to get the loads past 
The Sergeant at the gate, but when they all safely 
reached their ground in the Fourteenth Detachment, 
and were laid together, he surveyed the accumulation 
with an air of deep satisfaction. 

“Well, we’ve got enough for a gallus house — good 
as anybody’s in the camp. I tell you, it’s a good 
thing to stand in with Providence. It pays to do the 
right thing. I only wisht I’d got a chance to steal a 
couple o’ blankets while I was out. We need ’em, 
an’ I’d like to have one to give that poor preacher 
down there. But I’ll git out agin tomorrow. I’ll 
work that old ’Squire’s papers as long as they hold 
out to burn. Who was it grumbling about they’re 
not havin’ more education in the South? I think 
it’s all right. I don’t want ’em to know a single 
thing more’n they do, the blasted vermin.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE BOYS LEARN MORE OF THE WAYS OF ANDERSON- 
VILLE AND HAVE AN ENCOUNTER WITH CAPT. WIRZ. 

T HOUGH they were quite tired, the success of 
the boys in getting in such a quantity of 
excellent materials, excited them so that they 
proceeded actively with their house-building, as soon 
as they had devoured the coarse cornbread drawn 
for rations. The moon came up brightly, so that 
they could continue their work after night. 

They first planted, on each corner of the side front- 
ing the street, strong poles about as tall as Shorty. 
These they united by a cross-piece, tied with withes. 
At the corners on the rear side they set poles about 
three feet high, and fastened them similarly. Then 
at the ends they sloped other stout poles from front 
to rear, and on these they laid a smooth thatch of the 
tufts of the long-leaved pine. This was careful, 
tedious work, but when finished it made a roof which 
would turn water almost as well as the canvas of a 
tent. 

It took them until long past midnight to accom- 
plish this. One of them sat inside all the time, and 
directed the thatching until the last crevice was 
closed thru which a glint of moonlight appeared. 

Rapidly learning the ways of the place, they care- 
fully gathered up every chip and splinter of the 
( 196 ) 


THE BOYS ENCOUNTER CAPT. WIRZ. 


197 


wood, and stored it in one corner for use in cooking 
their food. 

‘That’s a fine job as fur as it goes,” said Si, as 
he rested and surveyed the erection. “It’ll shed off 
anything cornin’ straight down, an’ the most cornin’ 
from the east. But we’ve got to git some sides to it, 
so’s to shelter us from the north, south an’ west. 
Anything that comes on a slant’ll git us, sure.” 

“Yes,” acceded Shorty; “an’ we ought to have 
side walls to protect our things from gents with light 
fingers. Our goods an’ chattels are entirely too 
handy to ’em now. I am willin’ to do all the heavy, 
able-bodied stealin’ for this squad, but I can’t fake 
for the entire camp, an’ I object to havin’ what I’ve 
brung in durin’ the day sneaked out at night by 
cusses who’re too lazy or too stupid to git outside an’ 
snatch for themselves from the Johnnies. If we 
have a back an’ sides to our house we kin manage to 
watch the front.” 

“Well, we’ve used up all our stuff for the roof,” said 
Si. “We must try to git out tomorrow for more. 
Meanwhile, we’ve got to watch a while that they 
don’t carry this off agin as they did last night. Alf 
Russell, you’ve done the least work. You’ll take the 
first relief, an’ stay awake until that guard there 
calls out 3 o’clock, when you’ll wake Gid Mackall, 
who’ll watch till 5 o’clock, when he’ll waken us all.” 

In order to keep the guards in the little perches 
around the stockade awake and attentive to duty* 
the rebels adopted the plan of making them call out 
every half-hour after dark. This began down near 
the creek by the Officer of the Guard directing the 
sentry there to call out “Post No. 1 — 8 o’clock, and 
all’s well.” This was taken up in the order of their 


198 


SI KLEGG. 


numbers by each one, while the Officer of the Guard 
listened for any unlucky sleeper who should fail to 
promptly take up the cry. 

Post No. 4 was that immediately in front of where 
the squad was, and the boys had become familiar 
with the long-drawn, wailing cry with which the 
sentry there announced the passage of the half- 
hours of the night. As long as the prisoners were 
awake each one of these cries was the signal for a 
chorus of profane remarks vilely insulting to the 
sentry personally and to those associated with and 
over him, to his people, and the cause for which he 
was fighting, and anything else that any prisoner 
could think of as likely to hurt a guard’s feelings 
and make him understand that he was a blot on 
humanity. It was a howl of impotent rage, the only 
relief that the poor, tortured prisoners could find 
in their misery. 

At first Shorty had sneered at the senseless exhi- 
bition of temper by the prisoners, and tried to reason 
with them that the brat of a boy up there with a 
gun was not to blame, but those who placed him 
there. But as the bitter misery of the place ground 
itself in on him, and he realized the wantonness of 
the horrors inflicted, and their senselessness for any 
military object, he loathed with an inexpressible 
abhorrence anything that bore the rebel brand, and 
soon his voice became loud in the chorus of con- 
tumely showered upon the guards. 

In the field he had had at times frequent flushes of 
pity for the fate of men who were deluded with the 
idea that they were fighting for their homes and 
liberties, but there could be no room for such senti- 
ment in his heart toward little, venomous beasts of 


THE BOYS ENCOUNTER CAPT. WIRZ. 


199 


Reserves, who shot down unarmed and helpless 
prisoners, under the most shadowy pretexts. 

“There’s a good deal o’ talk o’ gangs o’ New York 
toughs there,” Si warned the squad, “who make a 
practice of raiding the new prisoners, an’ takin’ 
whatever they may have. They may try to git away 
with our house. Alf, you an’ Gid want to keep a 
mighty sharp lookout for any suspicious squads 
cornin’ up this way, an’ wake us up. Each o’ you 
boys git a good club, an’ have it by your side, ready 
for use.” 

“Yes,” continued Shorty, picking out a good-sized 
stick for a club, and taking out his knife to shave a 
handle on it. “Ike Deeble told me that them New 
York gangs last night raided that big squad o’ Army 
o’ the Potomac prisoners that come in in the after- 
noon, an’ took away from ’em a heap o’ blankets, 
money, silver watches, an’ sich things, an’ beat one 
or two men to death. We want to make it mighty 
hot for ’em if they try to jump us. Keep your eye 
peeled, boys.” 

They all lay down on their blanket, except Alf 
Russell, who, after sitting down awhile, concluded 
that he would pace up and down the little street, 
guard fashion, in order to keep awake. He had to 
quickly desist, when he found the universal suspicion 
volubly expressed from the tents from one end of 
his beat to the other, as to his purposes.. 

“Here, you blamed sneak,” yelled they with one 
accord, as his footsteps aroused them, “what are yo’ 
tryin’ to steal? Git back to your own place and lay 
down. Git out o’ here before I club the head offen 
you. Git, I say.” 

As Alf had been a worker in the Sunday school 


200 


SI KLEGG. 


at home, and a sweet singer in the church choir, 
these aspersions on his character wounded him 
deeply. He tried to reason with his slanderers. 

“Why, boys,” he pleaded, “tain’t right to talk to 
me that way. I never stole anything in my life. I 
ain’t that kind of a boy. I belong to church at home. 
I’m only walking up and down to keep awake.” 

This was met with deep derision. 

“Just listen to him lie. Night-walker like that 
pretendin’ to belong to church. Worst kind of a 
thief. Look out for your blankets and tincups, boys. 
Git back to your hole, you rat, before we knock your 
head off.” 

“But, boys” — pleaded Alf. 

“Will you shet up and git out?” said a shaggy, 
stalwart boy, springing out of his tent with a club in 
his hand. “I’ll learn you sneaks to come around 
here, grabbin’ our things. I believe you’re the feller 
that got away with our skillet night before last. If 
you ain’t, you’ve done something else jist as mean, 
and I’ll give you a welting on general principles. 

A score of others, awakened by the altercation, 
sprang out of their tents, club in hand to assist in 
the punishment, or resist any one who might come 
to the rescue. 

“Sergt. Klegg — Corpril Elliott, boys,” yelled Alf 
Russell, springing back to the tent, and shaking Si, 
who was on his feet in an instant, club in hand, with 
the rest of the squad gathering around him. 

Si mistook the boy rushing after Alf for a raider, 
and promptly knocked him down, and two or three 
of those next him. He yelled at the rest to keep 
back, and everybody else yelled, as soldiers will, just 
because yelling seemed to be in order. 


THE BOYS ENCOUNTER CAPT. WIRZ. 


201 


The guard at Post No. 4 promptly fired a charge 
of buckshot into the crowd. Quite unusual to the 
general experience, it hit no one seriously, though 
one of the shots scraped across Sandy Baker’s fore- 
head deep enough to draw blood. 

At the sound of the gun, every one of the older 
prisoners instinctively fell flat on his face, and just 
in time to escape the charges from the guns of Nos. 
3 and 5, who fired at once, quite willing to relieve the 
tedium of the night by killing a few prisoners. The 
prisoners instantly became very quiet, and listened 
to the guards reloading their guns. 

The drums outside beat for the guard to fall-in, 
and presently the rebel Officer of the Guard climbed 
up to the perch of No. 4, and inquired: 

“What’d you shoot foh, guard?” 

“Thar wuz a ruction in thar, sah,” replied a boyish 
treble, “an’ a -hull passel o’ they’uns wuz makin’ foh 
the dead-line, yellin’ and cavortin’, with clubs in 
they’uns hands, an’ I shot inter they’uns.” 

“Did yo’ kill any of ’em?” asked the officer. 

“I reckon so, sah. I shot right inter the crowd, an’ 
I seed several drap.” 

“I reckon you’ve done quelled ’em, anyway. Keep 
a sharp lookout an’ if one of them makes a motion 
toward the dead-line, blow his head off. Don’t ’low 
nary one of ’em ter even stand up. I’ll go and tell 
the other gyards the same.” 

“S’pose we’d better lay down agin,” said Shorty, 
adjusting himself to the blanket. “Lay down, Pete, 
quick. As Ike Deeble says, this locality may be the 
very best in the whole prison, but it has its dis- 
advantages. It’s too infernal close to ’em blood- 
thirsty little brats, with their old Queen Anne mus- 


202 


SI KLEGG. 


kets, with a quart o’ buckshot for a load. When 
they’re shootin’ buckshot, I prefer to be a little fur- 
ther away. Great Jehosephat, I jist ache for the 
time to come when I kin git after these fellers with 
my old Springfield musket.” 

Everything became deathly quiet, for no one dared 
utter a loud word to give the guards a pretext for 
renewing their fire. 

Si’s and Shorty’s burning rage did not keep them 
from falling asleep, after they had relieved Alf by 
Gid Mackall, and given the latter extra cautions as 
to his conduct. 

The rebel guards on the perches changed, and the 
new ones received the same instructions given those 
relieved, and these were given in a loud tone, so that 
the prisoners could hear and be duly impressed. 

For a few minutes the same silence reigned all 
over the southwestern corner of the stockade. Then 
when it seemed certain that all the old guards had 
been taken off and the Officers of the Guard had 
gained their places at the guard fire in the rear, and 
were possibly lying down to sleep, the guard on Post 
No. 4, coughed significantly, and struck three times 
on the bottom of his perch with the butt of his 
musket. 

“Hello, Skinny,” said Ike Deeble’s voice; “is that 
you ?” 

“Yes,” answered a wheeze from No. 4. 

“Who’s on 3 and 5?” asked Deeble. 

“White-Eye Sim’s on No. 3, an’ Burdock’s on No. 
5,” answered Skinny. “Hit’s all right. Is Brad 
thar?” 

Gid Mackall, who had gotten an impression that 


THE BOYS ENCOUNTER CAPT. WIRZ. 


203 


something unusual was going on, had promptly 
awakened Si and Shorty. 

“Not yet/’ answered Deeble, “but he’ll be here 
soon. Have you got the things for him?” 

“Yes, they are right down hyah. I’ll have ’em 
up in a minnit. Zach, tote them things up.” 

“Here comes Brad,” said Deeble. 

Shorty recognized the newcomer as one of the 
“sutlers” on “Broadway,” that led from the North 
Gate, and who did a thriving business, selling plates 
of cooked cow-peas to the new prisoners, who hap- 
pened to have a little money, at $1 greenbacks a 
plate, and wheat biscuits three for $1. 

“It’s all right, Brad,” said Deeble. “Skinny Tuttle 
is on No. 4, an’ White-Eye Sim and Burdock on the 
other two.” 

Brad unhesitatingly stepped across the fatal dead- 
line and marched up to the stockade beneath No. 4’s 
perch. 

“Say, Skinny,” he demanded, “did you bring all 
I asked you to?” 

“Yes,” answered Skinny, throwing down a string. 
“Tie your money to that, an’ send hit up. I’ll let 
the things down when I git the money.” 

“Here’s $100 Confed for the sack o’ flour,” said 
Brad, fastening a bill to the string. 

“That’s all right,” said Skinny, after examining 
the bill. “Hyah’s yo’ poke o’ flour.” 

“You sardine,” grumbled Brad, as he hefted the 
sack. “You’ve snoughed enough out of hit to make 
you a loaf o’ bread. But here’s $50 Confed for the 
bag o’ beans.” 

“And hyah’s yo’ nigger-peas,” answered Skinny, 
letting down a bag of those well known products of 


204 


SI KLEGG. 


the sterile fields of the South. “I've gin yo’ heapin' 
measure thar." 

“Hit’s fairer show for my money than the flour 
is," said Brad. “But then what’s a scoop-shovel full 
o’ beans more or less to you ? They’re so cheap that 
a Confed dollar, wuthless as it is, ’ll buy a bushel." 

“Not now hit won’t," wheezed Skinny. “Nigger- 
peas has riz like smoke, sence they’ve done tuck away 
all the field hands fer ter work on the fortifications, 
an’ Confed money’s went down. I’ll have to have 
greenbacks purty soon." 

“Well, you won’t git ’em from me," said Brad, 
fixing another bill to the string. “There’s $50 
Confed for that side o’ meat." 

“Blast you, Skinny, you’re gittin' to be a bigger 
hog every day," said Brad, angrily, as he examined 
the piece. “This ain’t half as much as yo’ ought to 
give me for $50, an’ you know it." 

“Hit’s all that yo’ orter have, an’ every smidgin’ 
yo’ll git," snorted the asthmatic Skinny. “Do yo’ 
s’pose I kin sell you bacon at market prices ? What’d 
I have ter divide with White-Eye an’ Burdock, let' 
alone fer my own trouble? D’yo’ s’pose I’m tradin' 
with yo’ Yanks jist fer fun? How much d’yo’ reckon 
I had ter pay the man ter git on this post ter-night? 
Pick up yer truck an’ skin out now, afore the Sar- 
gint comes around. Git, now. Post — num-beh foh — 
half — past — foh — o’clock — an’ a-l-l’s — w-e-1-1." 

Brad Wilcox picked up his load, and carried it over 
to Ike Deeble’s tent, whom he gave a “mess" of peas 
and meat,, as toll for his share in the transaction. 
He then departed to his own place with the flour 
and meat, leaving the peas to be brought over later. 
During the next two days he retailed his purchases 


THE BOYS ENCOUNTER CAPT. WIRZ. 


205 


to the hungry prisoners at about 1,000 per cent 
profit. 

“They’re all on the make out there,” Deeble ex- 
plained the next morning to Si and Shorty, with a 
comprehensive wave of his hand to include the whole 
rebel garrison. 

“As I have told you before, the whole hell’s bilin’ 
of them are crazy to make money — that is, all of them 
that’s got sense enough to know a Confed bill when 
they see it. Those wall-eyed whelps of boys in the 
Reserves, an’ those string-halted old men hain’t got 
as much brains as a Northern ox. They hardly 
know money when they see it, an’ can’t tell one bill 
from another. All they know is to eat corn-oone an’ 
shoot a gun. They are on a dead level with the idiot 
Aztec children you see in the circusses. But the 
moment you find a glimmer of sense in one of theih — 
if he’s got on Sergeant’s stripes, or is doing any- 
thing that requires a little know-how, you can be 
dead sure he’s wild on the make, clear up to old Wirz 
an’ that gray-haired villain, old Winder. 

“Old Winder’s sons are standing in with the sut- 
lers who keep that board shanty over on the North 
Side. Wirz skins the money out of the letters the 
people in the North send to the prisoners, an’ makes 
those that do the searching of the new prisoners 
divvy up with him, an’ so it goes clean thru the whole 
lot. They’re the most corrupt gang on the face of the 
earth. Our cooks, teamsters, an’ camp-followers 
are honest, upright men in comparison with them. 
You can buy any of their souls for a wad of Confed, 
an’ it needn’t be a big wad, either. That Skinny 
that you saw trading with Brad Wilcox used to keep 
a little store up in the country, an’ buy the cotton 


206 


SI KLEGG. 


an’ other truck that the niggers’d steal from their 
masters. The reasons that he has to play his game 
secretly is because he’s naturally a thief, an’ would 
rather steal than be honest, an’ he’s runnin’ an oppo- 
sition to some other traders that the officers are 
standing in with, particularly the big sutlers that 
are working for Winder’s sons. Every villainous 
hound about here is a cold-blooded murderer, with 
no more heart than a rattlesnake. If he’s got any 
brains he’s a robber an’ a thief beside. Old Wirz 
would starve a man to death for $10 Confed, which 
ain’t worth more’n six bits in our money, an’ all the 
rest are like him. I don’t understand why they 
rained down fire and brimstone on them compara- 
tively respectable people in Sodom and Gomorrah, 
an’ yet let this nest of vipers live and breed.” 

A study of the guard at the wicket giving promise 
of the desired illiteracy, Shorty repeated his per- 
formance of the day before, with the writs as passes, 
leaving Sandy Baker to keep house, while the others 
went out one by one. 

The scheme worked as well as it did the day 
before, they made good progress in gathering ma- 
terials, and they picked up their loads and started 
back for the South Gate. 

With Shorty at the head, they had marched in 
nrocession around the big fort, and were near the 
South Gate when ill-luck brought Capt. Wirz down 
the hill, directly in front of them. 

“Halt dere,” he commanded with a snarl, as he 
gazed at the line. “Put dose tings town unt answer 
me some questions. How dit all you tarn Yankees 
ked oud here?” 

“I’ve run up agin about the toughest deal T ever 


THE BOYS ENCOUNTER CAPT. WIRZ. 207 

struck, I imagine,” said Shorty to himself. “This is 
the head devil himself. It calls for my finest 24 - 
karat lyin’.” 

Shorty would not have been the skillful poker- 
player he was if he had not acquired full control of 



WITH SHORTY IN THE LEAD, THE BOYS ENCOUNTER 
CAPT. WIRZ. 

his face. He sat down his burden, looked calmly at 
the scowling little Captain, and answered : 

“We came out on passes.” 

“Dot’s a pig lie,” stormed Wirz. “You pribed 
some off dem tampt guarts to led you oud, titn’t 
you ?” 

For an instant Shorty thought that it might be 
the best way to give that sort of an explanation, and 
let the Captain wreak his vengeance on the guards. 



208 


SI KLEGG. 


It would be fun to see the rascals severely punished. 
But then he decided that it would be politic to stick 
to the original story, for he did not want to get the 
special ill-will of any of the Reserves, who might 
even up things by shooting him or others of the 
squad. He therefore answered: 

“No, sir; we came out on passes.” 

“De tefil you dit,” snorted Wirz. “Vhere dit you 
ket de passes?” 

“Capt. Wirz give them to us,” answered Shorty 
calmly, while Si and the rest shuddered at his 
impudence. 

Capt. Wirz promptly threw a fit, characterized by 
a storm of curses, touch facial contortion, and a 
threatening brandishing of his preposterously large 
revolver. 

“You dell me a pig lie like dot, right to mine 
face. You say dot I gif you basses, you infernal 
scountrels,” he screamed. “I show you. I plow your 
tamt headts off. Dit I gif you basses?” 

“I didn’t say you gave us passes,” answered the 
unmoved Shorty. “I said that Capt. Wirz gave them 
to us.” 

“Tam id, I am Capt. Wirz. Ton’t you know me?” 

“Can’t say that I do,” answered Shorty. “I hain’t 
many acquaintances in the lunatic asylum.” 

“Shut up your head, you Yankee pig. Do you say 
I gif you de basses?” 

“No, I didn’t say nothin’ of the kind. I said that 
Capt. Wirz, or a man who said he was Capt. Wirz, 
gave us the passes. He was inside lookin’ around, 
an’ I told him that we hadn’t anything to build a 
house with, an’ he said he was sorry, an’ that he 
would let us go out an’ get stuff. So he wrote the 


THE BOYS ENCOUNTER CAPT. WIRZ. 


209 


passes, an’ we came out on ’em. No ; he didn’t look 
like you. He was a very well-favored man.” 

“I’ll veil-favor you, you pigs. Brobably some off 
dem tamt Reserf e officers haf peen doing dis. Dey 
are alfays meddling vhere def haf no pizness. Show 
me your bass. But I’ll vindt oud who id iss, and 
make him chump. Show me your bass.” 

It required nerve to carry out the farce by show- 
ing the writ, as a pass, but Shorty had it, and pro- 
duced the paper with the air of confident innocence. 

Upon reading the writ, Capt. Wirz immediately 
threw another fit, so much more violent than the 
first that Shorty began to hope that he would burst 
a blood-vessel and die. But he never changed his 
look of blank amazement that the rebel officer should 
act so strangely at the sight of the paper. 

Wirz’s rage was mostly directed at the stupidity 
of the Reserves, who could not read, and thus dis- 
tinguish a genuine pass, and he included the officers 
who would put such “iknorant pigs” at the gates. 
He demanded and received the other passes, going 
off into a fresh paroxysm as he discovered that each 
one was the same kind of a fraud. 

“Who gafe you dis baper?” he fiercely demanded 
of Si. “Dell me de troot, or I plow your head off.” 

“Capt. Wirz,” answered Si, with a gulp at the lie, 
which Wirz fortunately mistook for a sign of fear 
of his revolver. 

“Ton’t you know id ain’d a bass? Gan’t you read?” 

“No, I can’t read writin’,” answered Si with an- 
other gulp. 

The rest answered the same way. 

“You’re all tamt liars,” said Wirz, exhausted with 
his rage, and stepping off a little distance and look- 


210 


SI KLEGG. 


in g at them with his revolver in hand. “All Yankees 
are liars. Dere’s no troot in dem, and you are de 
vorst off de lot. I ought to kill efery vun of youns. 
Put I von’t vaste powder unt lead on you. You’ll die, 
anyway. Here, Sarchent, puckunt-gag efery vun off 
dese scountrels, unt keep dem so till I dell you to led 
dem ko. Dake deir stuff afay vrom dem, unt gif it 
to do guarts.” 

The Sergeant was at hand with a strong squad of 
eight or 10 men. There was no use of resisting. 

“Sergeant,” whispered Shorty to him, as he ap- 
proached. “Here’s a tenner. Go as easy as you kin, 
especially on that little boy. And, Sergeant, if you’ll 
fix it so that I kin git that stuff inside, I’ll give you 
$50 Confed .” 

“It’s a go,” whispered the Sergeant back. Then 
he said aloud, “Squat down thar, you Yanks, an’ 
hold out yer hands.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


SI AND THE BOYS GET OUT OF THE SCRAPE AND BRING 
THEIR BUNDLES INSIDE. 

S I and the rest were astonished at the submissive- 
ness of Shorty to the painful and degrading 
punishment of bucking-and-gagging. For 
things incomparably less Shorty had in time past 
filled the camp with tumult. In fact, in the earlier 
days of his enlistment, which Si well remembered, 
Shorty had been something of a “holy terror,” much 
to Si’s amazement that he should so brave the legally- 
constituted authorities, and to Si’s admiration of 
the skill with which he downed other men who felt 
that they were also considerable terrors in their way, 
and resented his assumption of the premiership. 
One after another of these had yielded to Shorty’s 
superior strength and “science,” and become his 
admirer, and an outspoken advocate of the theory 
that he “could whip anything in the division, if not 
the whole army.” To this the whole regiment loyally 
subscribed, and it was making its way thru the 
brigade and division. 

The more public outbreaks with their defiance of 
his officers had ceased long ago, when after a par- 
ticularly cantankerous one, for which Shorty had 
done penance by several days of hard labor on the 
roads and the parade ground, after which Capt. 
( 211 ) 


212 


SI KLEGG. 


McGillicuddy had quietly taken him to his tent, and 
in a manly, sympathetic, half-humorous way which 
at once won Shorty's heart, had said: 

“Elliott, I want a little private talk with you. 
I don't know of a better soldier in the company or 
the regiment than you are, when you are all right, 
nor a tougher nut to crack, when you are off your 
base. I quite sympathize with you in your uncon- 
trollable desire at times to take hold of the company 
or the regiment and run it yourself. I’m quite sure 
I never quite run the company up to my own satis- 
faction, and I'm equally sure the Colonel feels the 
same way about the regiment. It’s no wonder that 
others get even worse dissatisfied with it than we 
are. All the same, President Lincoln appointed the 
Colonel to run the regiment and me the company, 
and we’ve got to wiggle them along until he makes a 
change. Unfortunately, any failures or shortcom- 
ings in me don’t hurt me so much as it hurts the 
company. The Captain is not of much consequence, 
but the company is everything. He is only one man ; 
the company is 100 men. There may be one Captain 
today, and another tomorrow; but the company re- 
mains. You may not like me particularly well. That 
is a matter of taste about which there can be no 
argument. But I submit that it is not a fair thing 
to the rest of the company to carry out your personal 
prejudices to the discomfort and detriment of your 
99 comrades. Don’t you think so, yourself?” 

After a little reflection Shorty had answered 
frankly : 

“Cap, you’re right.’ I can’t say that I’ve bin 
stuck on you. Neither have I bin, so to speak, sour 
on you. I’ve jist felt at times that you was puttin’ 


SI AND THE BOYS GET OUT OF THE SCRAPE. 213 


on a few more scollops than any free-born American 
citizen ought to stand, an’ I’ve kicked, accordin’ to the 
Declaration of Independence, which says that every 
man has the right to life, liberty and the pursuit o’ 
happiness. But I see now. ’Tain’t neither you nor 
me, but the company that’s the main thing. I’m 
with you for everything that you do. Here’s my 
hand on it.” 

Thenceforth there was not a stronger upholder of 
discipline in Co. Q than Shorty, as several entirely 
too-fresh recruits found to their cost. 

All the same, everyone knew Shorty’s tornado- 
like temper when aroused, and his consuming hatred 
of the rebels. Si had fearfully expected the direst 
outbreak when the rebel Sergeant attempted to tie 
Shorty’s hands — possibly a resistance that would only 
end in his death. Si, who had a resolution of iron, 
was less volcanic in temper than his partner, and 
would sullenly submit, when submission was in- 
evitable. Si’s wrath would give little outward sign, 
while burning none the less fiercely inside, as he 
waited for the inevitable turn in' the tide when it 
could take bitter satisfaction. 

But even Shorty’s flaming temper had to recognize 
and yield to the cruel despotism of deadly force 
which reigned over Andersonville. Such a thing as 
pity, mercy, reason, manly consideration, seemed to 
be entirely absent from the minds of the officers and 
guards about the prison. They were absolutely 
destitute of all the ordinary sentiments of humanity 
which can be appealed to even among savages. The 
words constantly on the lips of the officers were, “if 
they don’t mind you at once, shoot ’em,” and the 
dull, inexpressibly stupid guards had no other 


214 


SI KLEGG. 


thought than to shoot at once, whenever they thought 
orders were disobeyed or about to be disobeyed. 
There was a startling absence of any conception of 
moral responsibility or compunction about shooting 
down men. Apparently they had no idea that shoot- 
ing a man meant any more than shooting a wild 
animal. The guards, drawn from the remote coun- 
try districts, and inconceivably ignorant, had been 
brought to regard “Yankees” as in the same cate- 
gory with Indians, bears, wolves, “painters,” and 
rattlesnakes. They were as afraid of the Union sol- 
diers as of dangerous beasts, and their first con- 
vulsive thought at any moment that a prisoner 
turned toward them, or even spoke, was to shoot. 
They were in a state of nervous dread of what the 
terrible Yankee might do to them. Reason, expostu- 
lation, persuasion, were as useless on them as upon 
a pack of wolves. 

“We’ve got to stand it, Shorty,” said Si warningly. 
“Take it, an’ say nothin’. Don’t, for God’s sake, do 
or say anything. It’ll hurt the boys, who can’t help 
themselves, an’ it* won’t do no good. This ain’t our 
day. But ours ’ll come, an’ that soon. Wait for it.” 

He set an example by putting out his own hands 
to be tied. 

“I’ll do it,” said Shorty, making a passable imita- 
tion of Si’s calmness. “It’s only lent. We’ll pay it 
back with interest before the snow flies. I’ve taken 
an ambrotype in my mind of everyone o’ these rebel 
hyenas, an’ sooner or later I’ll give ’em their come- 
upance in a way that ’ll make old Nick have to put 
’em three in a bed to lodge ’em.” 

“Yo’ said yo’d give me $10 if I done went easy on 
yo’,” said the rebel Sergeant, an evil-looking man 


SI AND THE BOYS GET OUT OF THE SCRAPE. 215 

with one eye, the other having been lost in one of the 
muster-day fights which were the great incidents of 
local Georgia history “afo’ de wah.” His front teeth 
were also gone — drawn to save himself from con- 
scription. “Whar’s dat money ?” 

“Here it is in my fist,” said Shorty, opening his 
hand a little to show the bill, “but I ain’t a-goin’ to 
give it to you till you finish the job, an’ I’m satisfied 
with it, particularly the way you handle that little 
boy. Mind your eye, now.” 

“Yo’ gi’ me the money now. Yo’ kin trust me, yo’ 
thievin’ Yank,” snarled the Sergeant. 

“Nary a time,” answered Shorty. “Don’t trust 
no man. Never pay nobody till the work’s done. 
There’s your money in my hand. Go ahead an’ do 
your work. When you’re done come back, an’ I’ll 
give it to you. If you don’t do it right I’ll chaw up 
the bill an’ you can’t git it.” 

Shorty showed his usual shrewdness. Sergt. Jeff 
Tibbets had quite a reputation among the class of 
prisoners engaged in outside work, and trading 
transactions with the guards for tricky faithless- 
ness and absolute disregard of his word. He was al- 
ways ready to promise anything for money, but once 
having got the price in his hands, he took a par- 
ticular delight in repudiating his bargain and re- 
viling his victim. If the latter resented it, Tibbetts 
was ready to inflict any cruelty upon him. If Tib- 
betts had gotten Shorty’s money first, he would prob- 
ably have taken trouble to tie him and his comrades 
particularly tight, and enjoyed the pain he inflicted. 

But he needed money mightily that day, and as 
he saw that Shorty was obdurate, he proceeded to 
execute his orders as gently as he could, and still 


216 


SI KLEGG. 


pass the inspection of Capt. Wirz, should he come 
along. Shorty was perforce satisfied, and opened his 
hand and let Tibbetts secure the coveted note. 

The squad were seated in a semi-circle at the foot 
of a scrub-oak, and in front of a shack which was 
Tibbetts’s headquarters. One by one, he sent the rest 
of his guards away on various duties, until he was 
left alone with the prisoners. 

He was absorbed in reflections which seemed 
morose and gloomy, and made his ugly face uglier 
than ever. Shorty studied him and made up his 
mind that, like most of the men of his stamp, he was 
an inveterate gambler, and consumed with hunger 
to be “the smartest man with kyards in the camp,” 
but was continually meeting with sorest humiliation 
in defeats at the hands of men who had a trifle more 
brains and skill than he had. This is the galling 
bitterness in every gambler’s life — high or low. His 
soul is consumed with a sense of his own “smart- 
ness,” and desire to demonstrate it to his fellows. 
But whatever satisfaction he gains from beating 
those more stupid than he is more than offset by the 
rage at being beaten by men who are only a trifle 
more cunning. Shorty reasoned correctly that Tib- 
betts had probably been cleaned out of every cent 
the night before, by some cheap, “tin-horn gambler,” 
who was just a shade slyer and smarter than he. 

Silent and morose, Tibbetts smoothed the $10 
Confed out on his knee, scowled at it, and wrinkled 
his forehead in anxious thought. 

“Hello, Jeff,” said another rebel, with Sergeant’s 
stripes, approaching from the direction of Wirz’s 
headquarters. “What yo’ up ter?” 

The newcomer was the same stamp of a man as 


SI AND THE BOYS GET OUT OF THE SCRAPE. 217 


Tibbetts, though not so ill-favored. He halted a 
little in his steps. He had rolled a log over his foot 
to save himself from conscription. How much injury 
he had inflicted was a matter of dispute. He walked 
much better when he thought himself unseen than 
when under observation, and actually resorted to 



TIBBETTS LEFT ALONE WITH THE PRISONERS. 


crutches when the conscripting officers were per- 
vading the land. 

“Hello, Wad,” answered Jeff surlily. “Got ter 
watch these hyah Yanks.” 

“Bin a-trussin some o’ they’uns up,” said Wad 
Greene, with a casual glance at the prisoners. Such 
sights were too common to excite comment from any- 
one. “Say, luck run a leetle agin yo’ last night.” 


218 


SI KLEGG. 


“Yes, dang it all,” Tibbetts answered savagely. 
“Never did see kyards run so in my born days. I 
believe they wuz bewitched. I’m jest wonderin’ whar 
I kin git a silver dime or a quarter ter give ter that 
ole hump-backed nigger at the station ter change my 
luck. They do say that he kin conjure powerful.” 

“I done got a quarter,” said Wad. “Tuck hit 
from a prisoner. An’ I got a $50 greenback, too.” 

He displayed the bill, with great pride, and to 
Tibbetts’s consuming envy. 

“How’d yo’ happen ter git away with hit?” Tib- 
betts asked. 

“0, jest by keepin’ my eye peeled. The first time 
I went down the line searchin’ the prisoners ole Wirz, 
the jabberin’ Dutch villain, he walked right along 
behind me, and every time I done found a green- 
back he’d make me give hit ter him. The owdashious 
ole hog. He wants everything for hisself. He never 
kin git enough. But I’d spotted some fellers that I 
thought had money, an’ saved ’em for the second 
pickin’, when Wirz wasn’t lookin’, but jest then 
Lootenant Bill Little cum along. He’s even a bigger 
hog’n ole Wirz, an’ he made me give up every dollar 
I’d got. But I’d noticed a boy down near the end, 
stickin’ a bill inter his mouth ter hide hit. I went 
down ter him, an’ choked him till he opened his 
mouth, an’ I got the bill.” 

“Gol dang hit!” grumbled Tibbetts. “Why don’t 
ole Wirz ever give me a chance ter search prisoners? 
I don’t have no fair show in this outfit. Before I 
kin git hold of a prisoner you pets of ole Wirz have 
gone over him like a fine-tooth comb, an’ thar hain’t 
nothin’ left for a decent man, who’s tryin’ ter do his 
dooty.” 


SI AND THE BOYS GET OUT OF THE SCRAPE. 219 


“Yo’ don’t stand in with the right kind o’ fellers. 
That’s the trouble. Lootenant Bill Little kin git yo’ 
appointed on the searchin’ squad. Give him $100, 
an’ say yo’ll whack up with him, an’ he’ll fix it fer 
yo’.” 

It was one of the oddities of the guards at An- 
dersonville that they would talk before the prisoners 
as freely as if the latter were really unreasoning 
animals. 

“If I only had the $100,” said Tibbetts, “I’d give 
hit ter him. I’ll give him my next winnin’s, if I kin 
set inter a game somewhar an’ win that much. Yo’ 
say yo’ve done got a silver quarter? Le’ me have hit 
for ole Quash ter conjure with.” 

“Not much I won’t. I ain’t squanderin’ my money 
that-a-way. But I’ll tell yo’ what I’ll do. I’ll put hit 
up agin $5 Confed, an’ play you two best out o’ three 
fer hit.” 

Tibbetts demurred a little at the odds, but a silver 
quarter was then not a very bad exchange for $5 
in Confederate paper, and besides, he wanted the 
silver very much. 

Wad produced a well-worn deck, and in a little 
while walked off chuckling, with all of Tibbetts’s 
money in his pocket. 

“That was the rankest stealin’ I ever saw. Regler 
highway robbery,” burst out Shorty as Wad Greene 
disappeared. “Lord, how I despise to see a man rob 
another that way.” 

“What d’yo’ mean?” asked Tibbetts, turning to 
him for consolation. 

“Why, that feller jest stole your money. He didn’t 
win it. You played a straight, honest game, an’ a 


220 


SI KLEGG. 


much better one than he did, but he stole you blind. 
Never saw anything- so rank.” 

“Air yo’ done sho’ o’ that?” 

“Sure o’ it? I saw it as plain as I see the stock- 
ade over there. I saw it from the very minute he set 
it. He’d fixed up a cold deck for you, and rung W 
right in on you where you was playin’ a square 
game.” 

Tibbetts went off into a torrent of curses, by 
which it developed that Greene had been skinning him 
for weeks out of every dollar that he could get. 
Shorty affected the utmost indignation and sym- 
pathy, and finally proposed to teach Tibbetts a trick 
by which he could beat Greene, and get his losses 
back. Shorty was positive in his assurances of being 
able to do this, and backed them up by doing two or 
three tricks, when his hands were released for that 
purpose. These quite overpowered the dull-minded 
Georgian, If he could only handle cards that way, 
he would clean out the whole camp, and cackle over 
Wad Greene in a way to pay up past scores. 

But Shorty resolutely refused to give any further 
instruction, until he and his comrades were restored 
to their rights, which included being allowed to take 
their bundles inside the stockade with them. Once 
inside with the materials with which to complete the 
tent, he would devote any amount of time to giving 
Mr. Tibbetts full instruction into all the mysteries of 
cold decks, dealing from the bottom, and other 
devices for ensnaring the unwary. 

Tibbetts finally decided that as Capt. Wirz had 
been seen going out of camp, he had in all probability 
forgotten about the prisoners, and would not recall 


SI AND THE BOYS GET OUT OF THE SCRAPE. 221 


them unless brought before his eyes. Tibbetts, in 
view of the great prize to be gained, would take the 
chances on this, release the squad and march it 
directly into the stockade. 

As the sun was setting the boys again reached 
their place of abode, and flung their burdens on the 
ground. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE BOYS MAKE A PURCHASE OF SOME HARDTACK. 

A GAIN the boys put in a night of hard work. 
It resulted in getting the back and north and 
south sides of their house as well thatched 
with pine-tufts as the roof. They were none too 
soon, for a torrential rain came up, without a 
moment’s warning, and deluged the prison with 
water. 

“Turns rain like a duck’s back, don’t it, Shorty?” 
said Si, lying back on the floor and contemplating 
the result with great satisfaction. “I only wish that 
every boy in the pen had one jest as good!” 

“And leave to come and go jest as he pleased, 
without ugly brutes in butternut clothes, and carry- 
ing big guns, stopping them at every step,” sug- 
gested Monty Scruggs. 

“And each fellow had his own nice Springfield 
rifle, with plenty of cartridges,” added Harry 
Joslyn, with a sigh of regret over the treasured 
weapon he had had to lay down. 

“And could draw every day a good Government 
ration of hardtack, pork, sugar, coffee, salt, and 
soap,” mourned Gid Mackall. 

“Lord, boys,” ejaculated Shorty, impatiently. 
“You want to be in Heaven at once, don’t you? You 
mustn’t talk that way. You mustn’t let your minds 
( 222 ) 


THE BOYS BUY HARDTACK. 


223 


run that way. You mustn’t think o’ the good times 
we’d have if we was back in the army with Sherman 
and the boys. If you do, you’ll git homesick and 
die, like these other poor boys. Keep busy at some- 
thing, so’s you won’t have a chance to think.” 

“That’s true, Shorty,” said Si. “But what kin 
we do, now, that our house is up, an’ we can’t git 
out no more on them writs? We’ve got some o’ the 
papers left yit, but we won’t dare use ’em.” 

“Well, we’ve got to do something,” said Shorty, 
as he adjusted the pine-tufts at his end to make 
comfortable lying for him and Pete. “ ’Twon’t never 
do to lay around an’ think; we’ll die sure.” 

They guarded their house again thru the night, 
but hoped that soon its newness would pass off, and 
it become so much a part of its surroundings that 
nobody would think of stealing it. 

After roll call Sergt. Jeff Tibbetts came in, very 
eager to get his first lesson in the art and mystery 
of stacking cards, but not eager enough to obscure 
the fact that he was in an ugly temper. To clear 
his way from the gate, he knocked down, quite un- 
necessarily, a number of poor boys, so grievously 
sick and weak that they could scarcely stand, who 
were crowding there in the vain hope that the rebel 
surgeons would come in and give them something to 
alleviate their pains and stop the horrid ravages of 
the scurvy. 

When he succeeded in finding the tent, Si was 
driving down a stake at the corner with the precious 
ax. Here was a chance for Tibbetts to exercise his 
baleful authority. 

“Hyah, yo’ Yankee scalawag, gi’ me that thar 
ax, immejitly. You hain’t got no bizniss with hit, 


224 


SI KLEGG. 


an’ yo’ know yo’ hain’t. Orders is all agin yo’re 
having axes. I orter buck-and-gag yo’. Gi’ hit ter 
me, I say.” 

Si might be slow-motioned at times, but never 
when quick thinking and acting were necessary. 
He turned around slowly, as if to respond to Tib- 
betts’s demand, but somehow the ax slipped to the 
ground behind him, while he was asking with 
affected stupidity : 

“What’d you say, mister?” 

“That ax,” yelled Tibbetts, coming up closer to 
catch it. “I want that thar ax, to-wunst. Gi’ hit 
ter me.” 

“What ax?” asked Si, as if his horizon was filled 
with those useful implements. 

The ax had not touched the ground when it was 
slyly seized by Harry Joslyn, who slipped it back 
into the tent to Shorty. At a glace from his eye 
Monty Scruggs whisked around to the back of the 
tent, the ax was shipped thru under the thatching, 
and with it under his blouse Monty sauntered care- 
lessly off toward the center of the prison. 

“That thar ax yo’ have,” said Tibbetts, roughly 
catching Si to turn him round, and look for the 
implement. 

“I hain’t got no ax,” answered Si, giving a lurch 
that brought his shoulder against Tibbetts with such 
force as to knock him from his feet. “I did have 
one that I’d borryed from a boy over there in the 
other Detachment, but he come up an’ slipped it out 
o’ my hand, jest as I wanted it most, an’ now he’s 
went away with it.” 

“Yo’ air a-lyin’ ter me,” said Tibbetts, regaining 
his uprightness, and hunting around for the to^l 


THE BOYS BUY HARDTACK. 


225 


“But yo’ can’t fool me. I’m bound ter have that thar 
ax, an’ I’ll buck-and-gag yo’ fer havin’ hit. Yo’ve 
slipt hit inter yer tent.” 

“I tell yo’ I hain’t got no ax,” stolidly persisted 
Si. “I only borryed it, an’ the man’s jest taken it 
away.” 

Tibbetts fumbled thru the pine-tufts on the 
ground, and searched every nook and cranny, with- 
out success. 

“Come, Tibbetts,” said Shorty, “don’t make a 
three-story fool o’ yourself. There ain’t no ax 
around here, an’ you can’t git it. You’re wastin’ 
time, an’ my time’s valuable, whatever yours may 
be. You’ve done your part, fair an’ square, in pass- 
ing us an’ our stuff inside, an’ I’m goin’ ter do my 
part. But I make it a' rule to ’tend to business in 
business hours, an’ these are my business hours. 
Drop hardware an’ cutlery, an’ come to cards. Did 
you bring a deck with you?” 

“Yes, hyah they air,” said Tibbett’s, producing a 
well-worn pack in a very dirty hand. 

“Great Jehosephat, man,” gasped Shorty. “When 
did you wash your hands?” 

“Wash my hands?” said Tibbetts; “dunno when. 
Hain’t had ’em in nothin’ ter need washin’.” 

“Great Jehosephat; don’t you wash your hands 
every morning?” 

“Nah. Why should I waste time washin’ ’em 
when I hain’t had ’em in nothin’?” 

“Why, I wash my hands regerly every mornin’, 
an’ some times durin’ the day.” 

“Why, what a dirty runnion yo’ must be. I’m 
glad I hain’t so all-fired dirty as yo’ Yankees is.” 

8 


226 


SI KLEGG. 


“Why, your hands looks like they was dead an’ 
mortifyin’. If dirt was trumps you’d have a full 
hand. You never kin handle the psateboards with 
hooks like them. Jest as soon think o’ gamin’ over 
’em with a jint o’ rotten pork. Git a piece o’ soap 
an’ go down to the crick an’ give ’em a good scrub- 
bin’ before we begin. Use plenty o’ soap.” 

“Soap?” echoed Tibbetts, vacantly. “Whar’ll I 
git some?” 

“Great Jehosephat! Out in camp, o’ course. 
You’ve got lots o’ it out there, hain’t you?” 

“Nary mite that I knows on. Hain’t seed none 
nowhar sence I’ve done bin in camp.” 

“Didn’t you bring some with you? Don’t your 
Quartermaster issue soap?” 

“Nah. What’s the use? Ain’t a-gwine ter tote 
nothin’ that we’uns don’t need. Got more’n we kin 
do ter tote vittles ter eat. Hain’t no room for gourds 
o’ soft soap that’d be spillin’ over everything, an’ 
spilin’ yer grub. What’s the use, anyway? Soap’s 
women’s doin’s. Hit’s what they use ter wash 
clothes with. Men hain’t no truck with hit. Great 
soljerin’ that’d be totin’ a gourd o’ soap around all 
the time fer no good at all.” 

“Well,” said Shorty firmly, “I ain’t goin’ ter tetch 
cards that you’ve bin mummickin’ over with them 
mud-hooks. I’d be afraid they’d give me old- 
serious-final-come-and-git-us, or something worse. 
Say, you can’t do nothin’ with cards with sich paws 
as them. They’d hoo-doo the best cards that was 
ever dealt. You couldn’t see a mark, after you’d 
passed them tar-sticks over ’em. You can’t feel a 
mark thru all that dirt. Say, you wanted that old 
nigger to conjure for you. I’ll tell you a better con- 


THE BOYS BUY HARDTACK. 


227 


jure than he has. You go back to camp an’ find a 
gourd of soft soap somewhere. Take it out to where 
there’s some dog-fennel jest about to flower. Look 
straight west, an’ pull up a bunch o’ dog-fennel be- 
hind you with your left hand. Wring the dog- 
fennel jest this way in your hands, an’ squeeze the 
juice into the soap, sayin’ all the time: ‘Fee-fo-fum; 
I see the print o’ Wad Greene’s thumb, an’ I’ll skin 
him alive, I will, by gum.’ ” 

“That’s a real conjure, is hit?” said Tibbetts, with 
the light of hope beaming in his face. 

“Dead sure. You jest learn it, an’ do as I tell you, 
an’ come back here, an’ we’ll beat him out of his 
eyes. After you fix up the soap as I tell you, cover 
your hands with it, an’ give ’em a good soaking. It 
would be well if you heat the water. It won’t do no 
harm to put a little o’ the soap an’ hot water on your 
face and neck. It’s the greatest conjure I know. 
All of us use it. That’s what makes us all so smart.” 

“Sounds like an awful good conjure. I’ll do jist 
as you say. Say (and he pulled Shorty off to one 
side, to speak confidentially to him), I got to come 
in here ter look arter tunnels. Thar’s a powerful 
sight o’ them bein’ dug, an’ the Dutch Cap’n wants 
ter find out all about them. If I kin find out some 
hit’ll git him ter put me on the searchin’ squad, an’ 
I’ll jist git a wad o’ money from the prisoners. Say, 
I’ll tell you what I’ll do! yo’ kin put me onto some, 
I know. If yo’ll do hit an’ put me on to one or two, 
I’ll make hit worth yer while. I’ll give yo’ the fust 
$5 greenback I come acrost when I git ter searchin’ 
prisoners.” 

Shorty’s natural hot impulse was to rise in wrath 


228 


SI KLEGG. 


and break into several pieces the fellow who could 
offer him such an insult. 

“Well, of all the roosters I ever met he gasped 
internally. “Wants to bribe me to turn traitor with 
money that he’ll steal from my own comrades. Wants 
to ketch me, too, with a measly $5 bill. Wonder 
how much he’d expect to pay for Yankee souls in 
dozen lots? After all, though, that’s high compared 
to the goin’ price for rebels. He’d do all that, an’ 
more, too, for $5 Confed. But there’s no use in 
gettin’ mad. Like the rest o’ them, that feller’s got 
no more sense o’ decency an’ right than a woods hog. 
He won’t understand my gittin’ mad at him any 
more’n a hog would my bein’ sore at his cornin’ into 
the house an’ layin’ down to git out o’ the rain. I’ll 
make more by playin’ with him.” 

Then aloud: 

“Well, I don’t see how I kin help you now. You 
see, I hain’t bin in here really long enough to git on 
to things. I’ve bin busy gittin’ our house up. I’ll 
tell you what you do; you look around a little, an’ 
see what you find. Then you let me know before 
you go out, an’ I’ll keep a watch on ’em. I’ll keep 
my eyes peeled, too, for signs. Then you go out an’ 
fix up that conjure, jest as I told you, an’ come in 
tomorrow, an’ we’ll be in shape to do something.” 

To this reasonable proposition Tibbetts assented, 
and left on a tour of inspection of the inside of the 
prison. 

So long as the minds of the boys were filled with 
the need of getting their tent erected and providing 
shelter, they managed to get along on the meager, 
unappetizing rations of coarse cornbread, baked on 
the outside as hard as a brick and frequently almost 


THE BOYS BUY HARDTACK. 


229 


raw inside. But as they contemplated with satis- 
faction the completion of their work, which gave 
them as good a shelter as was to be found in the 
prison, and infinitely more than had thousands, who 
either had very little or were absolutely destitute, 
and compelled to lie out on the sand, hot at one time, 
drenched with dashing rain at another, they began 
to think of the next prime requisite of life, proper 
food. Had the bread been clean, good and whole- 
some, the half-loaf issued as a daily ration, without 
any meat or other accompaniments, would have been 
scanty support for vigorous men accustomed in the 
field to three pounds of strong, nutritious food daily. 
But the bread issued was made of the coarsest pos- 
sible cornmeal, unsifted and unsalted, merely mixed 
with water to the consistence of dough, and then the 
outside burned to hardness in the quickest possible 
time. The bakery was excessively overworked, and 
had to be rushed night and day to furnish a half- 
loaf of the wretched product to each of the 25,000 
men then confined in the pen. To add to its unpalat- 
ableness the swamp in which the bakery was situ- 
ated was indescribably filthy, and the filth bred in- 
numerable maggots, which crawled around awhile 
until they developed wings. They added inconceiv- 
ably to the other insect pests of the prison, for they 
filled the air, fell everywhere, and when they drop- 
ped on an exposed part of the body bit painfully. 
They swarmed about the bakery, and every loaf of 
bread issued contained some of the disgusting 
maggot-flies. 

Sandy Baker’s mechanical ingenuity had provided 
the squad with a fair equipment of cooking utensils 
out of the tinplates from the wrecked car-roof. They 


230 


SI KLEGG. 


used some of the plates flat, upon which to bake 
their hoe-cakes, as long as their meal lasted. Others 
were turned up into square pans, in which they 
boiled and fried, and from which they drank. With 
no other tools than his pocket-knife, Sandy con- 
structed a bucket from bits of pine, and this served 
to bring and hold water. He carved out wooden 
spoons, and was fertile in other devices. Gid 
Mackall was quite as indefatigable in culinary make- 
shifts to make their rations more palatable, and 
imitated the other prisoners in parching the crusts 
on the bread to make a substitute for coffee. But 
there was a question whether more was gained in 
this way than by eating the crusts. His best scheme 
was to break the bread into crumbs, and boil it with 
red pepper, the only food product than was tolerably 
easy to procure about the prison. The hotness of 
the pepper helped to disguise the unpalatable, often 
nauseating absence of salt. The meal became more 
thoroughly cooked, and for the moment the rations 
seemed more filling than when eaten in the form it 
came from the bakery. 

Si and Shorty got along on their rations for sev- 
eral days without complaint, and their boys, imitat- 
ing their example, did no grumbling. But as they 
were sitting in the proud enjoyment of their house, 
the partners noticed Alf Russell squeamishly pick- 
ing the maggot-flies out of his bread with a pine 
splinter, his face wreathed with disgust, while Pete 
Skidmore was evidently trying to force himself to 
take the first bite on the brickbat-like chunk which 
he had just drawn. 

“Great Scott, Shorty,” said Si, “we may stand this 
grub, but them poor boys can’t. They ain’t as tough 


THE BOYS BUY HARDTACK. 


231 


as we are. There’s poor little Pete, who hain’t had 
his growth yit. He won’t live a week unless he gits 
something decent to eat. Anyhow, he’s likely to be 
stunted for life.” 

“Jest what I’ve bin thinkin’, Si. We can’t let them 
poor boys starve, on no account. We’ll try to worry 
it out, but they must* have something. The ex- 
penses o’ buildin’ this tent’ve made a pretty big 
hole in our cash, but we still have something left. 
When it’s gone, Providence will provide for more, 
same’s He did before. Le’s go over on to Broadway, 
an’ see what them pirates over there have to sell.” 

Leaving the boys to look out for the precious tent, 
with strict injunctions as to what to do, the partners 
made their way down thru the sad throng of thou- 
sands gathered around the South Gate anxiously 
awaiting the incoming of the rebel surgeons. They 
looked around as little as possible, as they threaded 
their way carefully thru the massed suffering and 
death of the prison, for they would avoid being 
shocked by the sights of such appalling misery. 

Every repulsive form into which chronic hunger 
and the horrible scurvy could distort the face, limbs 
and body of a man could be seen in that infinitely 
wretched congregation. 

But why look upon the starving men and their 
putrefying bodies? 

Mere sympathy was an idle mockery. 

“Jest think o’ it,” shuddered Si. “If Pap could 
only drive in here with a wagon load o’ new pertaters 
it would cure every one o’ these poor fellers. An’ 
how glad he’d be to do it to a gang o’ rebel prisoners 
who was his bitterest enemies. These rebels claim 
to be Christians, yit not in the whole State o’ Georgy 


232 


SI KLEGG. 


is there a man who’ll give a cart-load o’ green stuff 
to save the lives o’ a thousand men.” 

“Liars! murderers! traitors! robbers! thieves!” 
burst out Shorty violently. “They hain’t half as 
much Christianity among ’em as among Digger 
Injuns. I wish the whole Southern Confederacy 
was hangin’ over the smokin’ pit o’ hell by a string, 
an’ I had a knife. I’d cut it in a holy minute, if I 
sunk with the rest.” 

Descending the slope, they cast a wary eye upon 
the sentinel in the box nearest the creek, to dis- 
cover if he had any present intention of carrying out 
the semi-daily performance of firing into the crowd 
on the bridge across the creek. Apparently he did not. 
The creek was full of muddy water, from the heavy 
rain of the night, and as there was little choice in 
cleanliness, there were no men reaching up toward 
the dead-line for clean water, which would afford the 
guard a pretext for shooting. He had his gun lying 
across the top of the stockade, and was scratching 
his shockhead with an energy that the rebels never 
showed in any other occupation. 

“Wish I could see a line o’ our cavalry raise the 
hill yonder,” said Si, expressing an aspiration that 
came perpetually to the lips of the prisoners, “an’’ 
fire a volley that’d knock the dumb’ heads off every 
whelp in them perches.” 

“We’ll see ’em soon. We’ll see ’em soon. Jest 
wait,” said Shorty hopefully. “Ole Sherman’s put- 
tin’ in full time every day, an’ every day brings him 
lots nearer. The moon won’t change many times 
till we’ll see our cavalry lopin’ thru them woods, an’ 
these hellions runnin’ like rats from a terrier. 

They ascended the slope on the other side, to 


THE BOYS BUY HARDTACK. 


233 


where the broadest and longest street in the prison 
ran due east from the North Gate. This the prison- 
ers dubbed “Broadway,” from its pre-eminence 
among the paths in the prison. 

Another reason was because it was the chief mart 
in the stockade. In spite of the hunger, starvation, 
deadly sickness and abject misery of the place, there 
was still the active spirit of trade and commerce, 
and all the more enterprising traders congregated 
along Broadway. It was astonishing to see the kind 
and number of things that found their way into 
prison, despite the robberies of the prisoners on the 
field, on their way to Andersonville, and by the 
searchers at Wirz’s headquarters. Dire necessity 
for food had driven their owners to offer for sale 
their most cherished' belongings for anything that 
they would bring. There were gold and silver 
watches, gold pens, violins, flutes, rings, breast-pins, 
lockets, knives, pocket-books, combs, silk handker- 
chiefs, and articles of clothing. 

These were entrusted by their owners to traders 
who sold them to other prisoners, or more fre- 
quently to rebel officers, who came in to buy things 
cheaply that their own stores were destitute of. 
But the most numerous and active of the traders 
were thooe who bought bundles of wood, pieces of 
meat, savks of cow-peas, flour, meal, new potatoes, 
sweet potatoes, peaches, etc., and watermelons of 
the guards, and retailed them to the prisoners, at 
more than gold-mine profits. They baked the flour 
into little biscuits, and boded the cow-peas to a thick 
soup, which they sold in dishes made of half-can- 
teens. The new prisoners, who brought a little 
money in, and could not come down to the coarse 


234 


SI KLEGG. 


cornbread, speedily squandered it for the cow-peas 
and wheat biscuits. Everybody was suffering from, 
and thousands dying of, scurvy, for which water- 
melons, Irish and sweet potatoes and peaches were 
sovereign remedies, and many sold even their most 
necessary clothing to obtain these antidotes. 

As Si and Shorty turned into Broadway, the 
clamor of voices, separated itself into understandable 
yells of 

“Nice fat pine — 10 cents in money or $1 Confed.” 

“Here’s your nice wheat biscuits, only $1 green- 
back for three.” 

“Sweet sorghum molasses, 10 cents a cup or $1 
Confed.” 

“Come an’ git your bean-soup. Only $1 green- 
back a plate.” 

“Nice, big, ripe watermelons. Only $5 in green- 
backs apiece.” 

“Here’s your big sweet taters. Best thing in the 
world for scurvy. Only 10 cents in money, or $1 
Confed.” 

“Fine Irish taters. Only a quarter a-piece in 
money, or two for $5 Confed.” 

“Here’s your fresh country eggs, hardbiled. 
Three for $1 greenback in money, or $10 Confed.” 

Si and Shorty looked at the displays of food, their 
mouths watered for the viands, and they chaffered 
with the venders, but found that there was no cut- 
ting their prices. 

“It’s no use, Si,” said Shorty, turning away with 
a sigh. “All the money we’ve got wouldn’t more’n 
buy a square meal for the boys at these prices, an’ 
then we’ll be without anything. We’d better try to 


THE BDYS BUY HARDTACK. 


235 


buy from the guards ourselves, an’ save the middle- 
men’s profits. We’ll try it tonight.” 

They walked a little farther, and heard a boy 
shouting : 

“Here’s your genuine United States hardtack. 
Only $1 in money a piece. Only real hardtack in 



SI AND SHORTY MAKE A PURCHASE OF HARDTACK. 


camp. Last chance, gentlemen, to git a bite o’ God’s 
vittels. Don’t let the opportunity slip. You don’t 
know when you’ll have another.” 

A hungry, covetous crowd gathered around the 
“barker,” and looked with eager eyes and watering 
mouths upon the precious food, which he had 
temptingly displayed upon a board in front of him, 
suspended by a string around his neck. They looked 


236 


SI KLEGG. 


ready to snatch the crackers away, but were deterred 
by the seller’s evident look of strength and the large 
club he carried. 

Si and Shorty pushed thru the crowd and gazed 
longingly at the crackers. Nothing in the food line 
had ever seemed so tempting as these commonplace 
constituents of the Regular Army ration. Their 
eager interest alarmed the trader. 

“Stand back,” he said, raising his club. “Don’t 
try to raid me. I’ll crack your heads if you attempt 
it.” 

“We ain’t goin’ to raid you,” Si answered. “We 
ain’t that kind. Where in the world did you git 
them crackers? The sight o’ them is good for sore 
eyes.” 

“A boy that was brung in yesterday had his 
haversack full of 'em. I give him $1 Gonfed apiece 
for ’em.” 

“Great Jehosephat, but they do look good. How 
much did you say you wanted for ’em?” 

“Jist $1 greenbacks apieces.” 

“Great Scott, you don’t want no profit, do you ?” 

“That’s my business, not yours. These are the 
only hard, genuine, Uncle Sam’s hardtack in the 
prison. If you want one you’ll pay $1 greenback for 
it, or you don’t get it. And you’ve got to speak 
mighty quick, too, for this is all I’ve got, and there’s 
lots o’ men willing to pay that for ’em. Say, do you 
want ’em or not?” 

The partners looked longingly at them, and then 
thought of the slender stock of greenbacks they had 
managed to conceal from the searchers when they 
came it. 

“Seems like a scandalous waste o’ money,” Si 


THE BOYS BUY HARDTACK. 


237 


whispered to Shorty ; “but I’d give more for one bite 
o' hardtack than anything else in the world.” 

“Same here. Say, pardner, we want eight o’ ’em. 
Can’t you give us wholesale prices on ’em? Can’t 
you let us have eight for a $5 bill?” 

“No sirree. No Jew about me. No shave or dis- 
count on them things. They’re $1 apiece straight. 
That only gives me one per cent profit — one dollar 
in money for a dollar Confed.” 

Si made a wry face, but the temptation was 
irresistible. He went down in his fob and produced 
a little wad of greenbacks, from which, with a sigh, 
he painfully skinned a $5 bill and three $l’s, while 
Shorty carefully picked out the eight best crackers 
in the trader’s store. 

“We’ll have to hide these, Si,” said he, as he 
stowed part of them in his bosom, and handed the 
others to Si, “or we’ll be mobbed on the way back. 
It’s as much as that feller’s life’s worth to go around 
showin’ hardtack in this crowd.” 

“Here’s your genuine Uncle Sam’s hardtack. Only 
taste of God’s vittels to be found in this camp. Only 
four left, boys ! One dollar greenbacks apiece. Last 
chance. No Confed money taken,” shouted the 
trader, as he moved on. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE BOYS HAVE SOME EXPERIENCES WITH TUNNELS. 

HAR’S jist rafts o’ tunnels bein’ dug,” said 
Sergt. Tibbetts, returning from his tour of 
inspection. “All along the west an’ south 
sides. They’re tryin’ ter kivver ’em up by purtendin’ 
ter dig wells an’ places fer their tents. What fools 
they’uns is ter try ter git out on them sides. 
They’uns’ll only run right straight inter our folks 
somewhar afore they’uns go 10 rods. Now, on yan 
side” 

He stopped, but not before Shorty had gotten a 
sufficient hint as to the location of any tunnels that 
he might take an interest in. 

“Mouty few or none o’ them’ll amount ter any- 
thing,” continued Tibbetts. “The fellers what’s 
diggin’ hain’t stren’th enough ter dig a rod under- 
ground, if they was left ter go ahead with their 
work. And if they got out they’uns kain’t go a 
quarter of a mile.” 

“What’s the sense o’ botherin’ with ’em, then?” 
asked Shorty. “If they can’t do no harm, why not 
let ’em alone?” 

“Huh, what d’yo’ ’spose I’m in hyah fer? The 
more o’ they’uns I kin find out an’ git punished the 
better’ll be my chances ter git on the searchin’ squad, 


(238) 


SOME EXPERIENCES WITH TUNNELS. 


239 


an’ I kin pay you that $5 greenbacks I promised 
yo’.” 

‘‘Ain’t you the orneriest whelp that God ever put 
breath into?” Shorty thought “A bob-tailed hyena 
is a gentleman alongside o’ you. I wish I had you 
on the Mississippi, where I could feed you to an old 
he alligator, with a mouth as long as a fence-rail, 
an’ teeth like a rip-saw. He’d lay you up under a 
root somewhere to spile an’ git game before he’d 
eat you.” 

“Say, I’ve got ter skeet out now. I want ter ketch 
the ole Dutch Cap’n an’ report ter him. I’ll have 
quite a story ter tell him. Mebbe he’ll appint me ter 
search right away. Anyhow, I’ll go out an’ try that 
conjure yo’ done tole me about an’ be in termorrer 
about this time. So yo’ take a leetle jant ternight 
over ter the North Side, about whar the new stock- 
ade begins, an’ keep yer eye peeled fer what yo’ kin 
see. Yo’ kin track ’em easy ter their holes by 
watchin’ fer fellers totin’ away dirt. Le’ me know 
when I come in what yo’ find out. Yo’ help me an’ 
I’ll help yo’. Understand?” 

“Yes, I understand,” answered Shorty. It would 
not have needed a mind-reader to look at him as 
Tibbetts turned away, to know that his “understand- 
ing” was not at all in harmony with that in the rebel 
Sergeant’s mind. 

“How did you keep from weltin’ his dumbed head 
offen him, Shorty?” asked Si, when his partner had 
detailed to him the substance of the conversation 
with Tibbetts. “I’ve got a heap better temper’n you 
have, but I couldn’t stand havin’ a rebel blatherskite 
proposin’ to me to betray my own comrades.” 

“He’ll keep,” answered Shorty, with a sinister 


240 


SI KLEGG. 


shrug. “It’s all only laid up for another day. But 
really, I sometimes think that there’s no more sense 
in gittin’ mad at such cattle as he is than there would 
be in gittin’ wrathy at a fool steer or a wild animal. 
You git your mad up at a dog or horse, which has 
some sense, an’ knows when he’s mean an’ vicious, 
but these brutes have no more gumption of right 
an’ decency than baboons. I’m goin’ to use him in 
my business.” 

“Well, you kin have him for all o’ me. I don’t 
want nothin’ to do with him, except to kill him, an’ 
I’d want to do that at tollable good range.” 

“I don’t believe in this tunnel business, nohow,” 
said Shorty, abruptly, for his mind had been turned 
in the direction of that means of escape by Tibbetts’s 
talk. “There must be some better way o’ gittin out 
o’ there than by burrowin’ in the ground like a wood- 
chuck. Seems stupid to me.” 

“So it does to me,” returned Si. “There must be 
a hunderd better ways. I’d rather take my chances 
climbin’ over the stockade. We might wait till some 
dark night, an’ knock one or two o’ them guards out 
o’ their perches with clubs, set a pole agin the stock 
ade, shin up it an’ skip.” 

“I’m goin’ to try them writs agin as soon as the 
sign seems right,” said Shorty, “an’ we’ll all 
naturally walk out o’ the gate, cool as cucumbers, 
toddle over to the woods an’ then break for Sher- 
man.” 

The newer prisoners all had this aversion to tun- 
neling as a means of escape. For a certain time 
after a man entered the prison his mind ran on get- 
ting out by overpowering the guards in some way. 
Next he dwelt on some trick or strategem to get past 


SOME EXPERIENCES WITH TUNNELS. 


241 


them. As he became weaker, day by day, he 
abandoned the thought of a physical contest with the 
sentinels, and the ill success o f numerous cunning 
strategems discouraged him. Then he began to 
think of tunnels, and as long as he had ambition and 
strength was incessantly planning and digging bur- 
rows in the gro’und. The difficulties of these were 
very great. The stockade was set firmly in the 
ground to the distance of four or five feet, the dead- 
line compelled a beginning at least 20 feet from the 
timbers, and the tunnel would have to be continued 
for some distance beyond the stockade, to avoid 
coming up directly under the eyes of the guards. The 
rebels were constantly on the watch for tunnels ; the 
guards were ordered to fire upon any one seen carry- 
ing dirt or digging at night, or any digging in the 
daytime that looked like tunneling. Spies were kept 
constantly inside the stockade on the lookout, and 
when anyone was caught tunneling, he was severely 
punished by the stocks, the chain-gang, or other- 
wise. 

“I’m a little curious about these tunnels, all the 
same/’ said Shorty. “Let’s take a little walk around 
this evenin’ an’ look ’em over — at least see what we 
kin find.” 

After dark the partners made their way across 
the creek an’ up thru the crowded slope of the North 
Side to th,e place where Tibbetts had indicated. 

They were not long in coming upon unmistakable 
signs of tunneling. Even thru the darkness they 
could detect little patches of freshly deposited sand, 
that had been carefully spread out by those who 
were carrying the dirt away. They came upon two 


242 


SI KLEGG. 


or three boys who were engaged in scattering out 
their bucketsful with their hands. 

Next they ran against a boy staggering under a 
blanketful of sand. He was thin and weak; one of 
his ankles was stiffened with the scurvy, and the load 
taxed his utmost strength. 

“Let us carry that for you, pardner,” said Shorty, 
kindly. “You ought've gone twice for that load." 

The boy looked at them with sharp suspicion. He 
did not like the look of Si’s pine-tuft hat. He was 
probably a rebel spy. The sight of Shorty’s bare 
head and feet seemed to reassure him, but then he 
thought it might be a scheme to get away with his 
precious blanket. 

“Go along, an’ tend to your own business,’’ he said 
surlily, “and leave me to ’tend to mine. I ain’t askin’ 
none o’ your help. I kin pack this myself.’’ 

He set his load down and breathed heavily. 

“Come pardner,’’ said Si, soothingly. “Don’t git 
huffy, or be afraid of us. We’re all right. We belong 
to the 200th Injianny Volunteers, Army o’ the Cum- 
berland, an’ only come in a few days ago. We ain’t 
lookin’ for your tunnel, nor do we want your blanket. 
Here, Shorty, you take hold o’ that end, an’ I’ll take 
hold o’ this. Now, pardner, show us where you want 
this dumped, an’ we’ll take it there. You f oiler along 
close, an’ you’ll see that your blanket’s all right.’’ 

Tears came into the boy’s eyes. 

“Yes, you’re -all right,’’ he said, relinquishing his 
hold on the blanket. “I kin tell that by your voices. 
You’re not rebels, an’ you’re not raiders. You talk 
like decent Western men. There’s so many durned 
mean skunks, rebels and whites, loafin’ around this 
camp, that one never knows who to trust.’’ 


SOME EXPERIENCES WITH TUNNELS. 243 

“Well, you kin trust us every day in the week,” 
said Shorty. “We don’t purty much an’ ain’t great 
on style, but for honesty an’ truthfulness we jest 
beat the devil. Where d’ you want this stuff 
dumped?” 

“There’s an open space a little way ahead, to your 
left. I was a-goin’ there. It hain’t had none on it 
for a day or two.” 

“Here,” complained a weak voice from inside the 
tent in front of the space ; “are you fellers pilin’ up 
more dirt out there? I told you not to. I can’t git 
out o’ my tent purty soon for the dirt. Besides, 
you’ll have the guards shootin’ in here an’ killin’ 
me.” 

“Don’t mind him,” said the boy. “He’s dyin’, an’ 
he’s only a citizen, anyway. He’s a sutler’s clerk.” 

That settled it. A “citizen” had not any right that 
need be carefully respected. 

“Don’t worry, pardner,” Shorty assured the 
inmate of the tent, as he and Si got down on their 
knees and spread the sand out with their hands. 
“This’ll only make the ground around your tent 
fresher and cleaner, and smother some o’ the gray- 
backs that’s swarmin’ here. It’ll help you.” 

The musket of the guard nearby suddenly roared 
out, and the heavy charge of buckshot tore up the 
ground behind them, but fortunately without hitting 
any of them. 

“There! There! What’d I tell you?” complained 
the man inside. “You’ve drawed the fire o’ the 
guard, just as I expected. Go away, or we’ll all be 
killed.” 

“Guess that was meant for us,” said Si, looking 
at the rift in the ground made by the buckshot. 


244 


SI KLEGG. 


“We’d better scatter. Say, pardner,” he continued 
to the boy, as they drew off a little, “they’re onto 
that tunnel o’ yours. Better drop it for awhile, at 
least. We was talkin’ to a rebel who was inside 
today, an’ we know that they’re watchin’ you.” 

The boy sat down on the ground, his wan face a 
picture of abject despair. 

“My God, what will we do?” he groaned. “We 
must finish the tunnel, an’ git out. It is our last 
hope. It’s our only hope. We’ll all die in a week 
if we don’t.” 

“Take us to your tunrtel an’ let’s see it,” said Si, 
pityingly. 

The boy was so weak and his joints so stiffened by 
scurvy that Si had to almost lift him to his feet. 
With painfully halting steps he led them to a poor, 
rude shack against the dead-line. It had been con- 
structed, when the prisoners first entered, by bend- 
ing over poles like hoops and fastening their ends 
in the ground, and then wattling and thatching with 
pine-tufts. But the shack had not been looked after, 
and the thatching was falling into disrepair, with 
holes where the tufts had dried and fallen out. 

“There was four boys in here,” the boy explained, 
as Si and Shorty looked over the wretched habitation. 
“Captured at Mine Run and among the first prison- 
ers that came in. They all died but one. We traded 
him all our blankets and clothes for this house, 
except this blanket. He laid out on the sand and 
traded them for grub, until they took him to the hos- 
pital. Me and my partners was taken at Ringgold, 
before the campaign really began. We’ve bin in here 
nearly two months now, an’ have got the scurvy 
awful bad. We must git out o’ here right away, or 


SOME EXPERIENCES WITH TUNNELS. 


245 


we’ll die. There’s one o’ my pardners settin’ there. 
Look at him and see the condition he’s in.” 

They looked and saw a tall boy, clad only in a 
lagged shirt and pair of drawers. The latter came 
scarcely below his knees. His skin clung to his 
bones everywhere, except his lower extremities, 
which were swollen and livid from an advanced 
stage of the scurvy. With his bony hands he was 
reaching inside to catch and bring out the dirt dug 
by another comrade working in the tunnel. He 
stopped and looked up at them with great eyes, full 
of the inexpressible pathos seen in those whose lives 
were rapidly sinking under the fatal scorbutic cor- 
ruption. 

“That boy,” whispered the first boy to them, “is 
the son of the Judge in our place. My other pardner, 
the one who’s inside diggin’, is the son of a widow, 
whose husband was Presidin’ Elder of our circuit. 
If he dies it’ll kill her the minute she hears of it.” 

“Tell your pardner to come out, an’ let us see how 
much of a tunnel you’ve got,” said Si. 

“Come out, Scott,” called the first boy, and another 
emaciated boy in the advanced stages of the scurvy, 
crawled slowly out of the hole and gazed with fever- 
ish, flashing eyes on the newcomers. He held in his 
hand the half-canteen with which he had been 
digging. 

“What’s the matter, Hank? What did you stop 
me for?” he inquired impatiently. “I was getting 
along fine. I’ve dug more tonight than any so far. 
I’ll have the hole ready to break in a day or two. Talk 
quick, and let me get back to work.” 

“These are friends from the Army o’ the Cumber- 


246 


SI KLEGG. 


land,” said Hank, the first boy. “They want to see 
what we’re doing. Mebbe they can help.” 

“Well, hurry up and look at it, and let me get back 
to work. I may get thru tonight yet. Hank,, let them 
help you and Nat carry off dirt. I can dig faster’n 
you can get the sand away. Hurry up.” 

He waved his half-canteen impatiently, and there 
was the accent of delirium in his quick, excited 
words. Shorty feared that the guard would overhear 
him. 

Si carefully examined the tunnel. It was only a 
small hole, but a foot or two under ground, and 
would squarely encounter the lower part of the stock- 
ade, if pushed that far, which it was improbable that 
the workers would be able to do, as all the labor they 
had devoted to it had not pushed it out the full length 
of a man beyond the dead-line. It was a hopeless 
task from the outset, for weakness, possibly death, 
must overpower them all before they had carried the 
tunnel more than half-way to the stockade. Si 
thought it his duty to impress upon them how little 
hope they had for success. 

“Boys,” said he earnestly, “you’ll have to stop, an’ 
right now. There’s absolutely no chance for you. 
If you pushed your tunnel ahead you would only run 
up agin the bottom o’ the stockade. But if you got 
out none o’ you could go a mile. Then, you’d come 
out right in the midst o’ the rebels, anyhow, an’ 
they’d shoot you down as soon’s you’d come out. 
Worst o’ all, the rebels are already on to your tunnel. 
They’re liable to jump you any minute, an’ bust it 
an’ put you in the stocks. Hist, there they come 
now.” 

The moon had come up brightly in the meanwhile, 


SOME EXPERIENCES WITH TUNNELS. 247 



and was flooding everything with light. Shorty’s 
keen eyes had detected Tibbetts’s evil face approach- 
ing in the little distance thru the crowd, and had 
given Si one of the secret signals the boys had used 
in camp. 

Tibbetts made a rush on them, at the head of five 
or six armed guards. 


THE GUARD FIRED INSTANTLY. 

“I migfyt as well die at once an’ be done with it,” 
shrieked Scott Wyman, making a frenzied leap thru 
the frail shack and over the dead-line. The guard 
had apparently been warned to be on the sharp look- 
out. He fired instantly, and tore a gaping hole thru 
the boy’s breast. 

“Blast yo’ Yanks, I done cotched yo’ at hit,” 


248 


SI KLEGG. 


shouted Tibbetts, as he grabbed the two other boys, 
hurried them backward to his guards, and began 
stamping down in the tunnel, and destroying the 
shack. “Take ’em out an’ put ’em in the stocks,” he 
ordered the guards. “I’ll be out thar d’reckly, an’ 
’tend ter they’uns. That other feller got j ist what he 
desarved, but a leetle ahead o’ time.” 

Turning to Shorty, he said : 

“Yo’ was a-doin’ what I done tole yo’. That’s alf 
right. I’ll see yo’ in the mornin’.” 

“Anything particular about the shootin’ on the 
North Side?” Ike Deeble inquired of the partners, 
as they came back to their tent. Shorty told him 
the story of what had happened. 

“Poor devils,” said Deeble, at the conclusion. “But 
the dead one’s the best off. It would’ve been a mercy 
to shoot the other two. They’re crazy. Every man 
who has scurvy becomes more or less crazy. Any 
man’s crazy that attempts to dig a tunnel on this 
side of the camp. That brings me to something that 
I’ve been intendin’ to talk to you about as soon’s 
you got into the right frame of mind for it.” 

He lowered his voice to a whisper. 

“It’s about a tunnel. There’s no use talking to men 
when they first come in about tunnels, but I think 
you’ve got down to ’em now.” 

“We’re ready for anything that you propose,” 
said Si. 

“Well,” answered Ike Deeble. “I’ve got a big 
interest in the best tunnel that’s been planned yet, 
an’ one that’s certain to go thru. It’s the only one 
in the whole lot that is.” 

That was another peculiarity of the prisoners. 


SOME EXPERIENCES WITH TUNNELS. 


249 


Everyone believed in his own tunnel, and had small 
faith in anybody else’s. 

“There’s a heap o’ hard work about it,” continued 
Ike, “an’ we need help from the rest o’ the boys about 
it, an’ we’re all agreed to take you in.” 

“Is it a big enough job for our whole squad?” 
asked Si. 

“Plenty. It’s big enough for a hundred men, if 
we dared let so many in. Fifteen of us have been 
working it so far, all boys that we know and are 
sure of. You can trust everyone of your squad, 
can’t you?” 

“To the last hair o’ their heads,” said Si earnestly. 

“Very well, then. I’ll take you tomorrow.” 

“Agreed,” said Si and Shorty, shaking hands over 
the compact. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE BOYS BEGIN WORK ON THE TUNNEL. 

W HEN Sergt. Tibbetts came in the next morn- 
ing, Si could not conceal his feelings suf- 
ficiently to speak to or even meet him. The. 
tragedy of the night before was too fresh, and he 
could only see in the rebel the embodiment of all that 
was hateful in wanton cruelty and murder. The 
look in those poor boys’ eyes was too well-remem- 
bered, and the shriek of the one who was shot. 
Therefore, as soon as he saw Tibbetts approaching 
he turned and walked away from the tent, and occu- 
pied his eyes and thoughts with other things. There 
was more craft and guile in Shorty’s nature. He 
was going to make use of Tibbetts until the day 
came when he could have a full reckoning with him. 

“When I’m rung into a game where I hain’t no 
show,” he often explained to Si, “I pass or play low, 
until I kin git the cards into my own hands, when I 
perseed to make the other fellers mighty sick.” 

Shorty, therefore, met Tibbetts as if nothing note- 
worthy had occurred the night before, and inquired : 
“Hello, how are you? Did you try that conjure?” 
“Yes, indeedy. Jist as soon’s I could. Had a 
powerful sight o’ trouble a-findin’ some soap, though. 
Thar warn’t a mite anywhar in our camps. At last 
I done found some over in the camps o’ the fust 
( 250 ) 


THE BOYS BEGIN WORK ON THE TUNNEL. 251 


rijimint. A teamster was a-totin’ a gourd along fer 
hoss-medicine. I done used hit edzackly as yo’ done 

tole me. Hit hurt like everything” 

“I kin understand,” said Shorty. “I should think 
that good wash’d be the next thing to skinnin’ you.” 



“But I done kept at hit, jist as yo’ done tole me. 
But see how funny hit made my hands look. I don’t 
know they’uns, an’ they’uns feel as funny as they’uns 
look.” 

“Yes, soap an’ water have that effect when used 
for the first time in your life. But you’ll git used 
to it in time. But your fingers feel more spry and 
limber than they did, don’t they?” 

“Yes, a hull lot.” 


252 


SI KLEGG. 


“That’s the work o’ the conjure. Now, git some 
o’ that dirt out from under your nails. They look 
like you might have to take a mattock an’ shovel to 
the work. Then pare them nails till they look a 
little less like dog’s claws, an’ you’ll be in shape to 
begin. Did you bring your cards with you ?” 

“Yes,” said Tibbetts, producing a very greasy 
pack. 

“If you’d bile these up with some lye, you’d git a 
good jag o’ soap out o’ them,” said he, handling them 
gingerly. “They’re about 10 miles the dirtiest cards 
I ever seen. We throw away cards after they git an 
inch or so o’ dirt on ’em.” 

“We’uns kain’t afford ter throw away keards as 
long ’s they’ll hold together,” said Tibbetts. “That’s 
the only deck in my company, an’ a man brung ’em 
home last Fall from Chickamaugy. He done found 
’em on a dead Yank.” 

“Should think that the man was not only dead, 
but badly mortified. Anyway, they’re all the easier 
for our use, for they’re marked so that a blind man 
kin read the backs as well as the faces. That’s what 
you’ve got to learn. See here: This ace’s got the 
upper left-hand corner tore off. See? That’s the 
ace o’ hearts. Now, let’s find the other aces. Why, 
they’re all marked the same way. Never noticed 
that before, did you ? Well, you are a smart Aleck. 
No wonder they stole your eyes right out o’ your 
head. Wonder if you’d notice a six-mule team if it 
was druv right across the board in front o’ you ?” 

Thus Tibbetts’s education went on. In a couple 
of hours Shorty got him so that he could recognize 
the most of the higher cards by their backs, and then 
stopped the lesson, fearing that Tibbetts might get 


THE BOYS BEGIN WORK ON THE TUNNEL. 253 


inflammation of the brain from too much sudden 
exercise of that dormant organ. He warned him to 
give no hint to Wad Greene of his increase in knowl- 
edge, but catch him unawares. Jeff Tibbetts went 
out cursing his own stupidity in not having seen the 
marks before, and gloating over what he was going 
to do to Wad Greene. 

“I’ve been waiting for that rebel sucker to get 
away,” said Ike Deeble, coming up to Shorty, and 
motioning to Si to draw near. 

“This is Shad Graham, of my regiment,” he said 
with a motion of his hand toward a very tall, slender, 
round-shouldered young man, two or three years 
older than Shorty. “He’s the engineer and boss of 
the tunnel I told you about, an’ he’s come up here to 
talk to you about* it.” 

Shorty and Si looked at the man, and were not 
favorably impressed. His long hair was lank and 
straw-colored ; his attitude meek and shambling, and 
his eyes appeared dull and listless. He put out his 
hand bashfully, to take theirs, and said mildly : 

“Yes, Sergt. Deeble insisted that I come up and 
see you for myself, though I’m always willing to 
take his judgment for anything. Sergt. Deeble 
knows men much better than I do.” 

“0, come off, Shad,” said Deeble impatiently. 

“Where’s the rest of your squad? Sergt. Deeble 
said there were eight of you, I believe,” inquired 
Shad, in soft, indecisive voice. 

“Here they are,” said Si, pointing out the boys, and 
naming them, one after another. 

Apparently Shad hardly more than glanced at each 
one, but he said quietly : 

“They’re all right. They’ll do.” 


254 


SI KLEGG. 


“What sort of a milk-and-water maverick is that, 
Ike?” asked Shorty in an aside. “He don’t seem to 
have spirit or strength enough to pull a setting hen 
off her nest.” 

“Humph, there’s where you’re left. That’s the 
smartest man in this camp, bar none. He was a 
school teacher at home, to make his living, and 
Deputy Sheriff because he liked excitement, and 
always was dangerous. He’s the quickest and best 
shot in our regiment, and got a Lieutenantcy by 
capturing a flag at Mission Ridge.” 

“If he’s a Lootenant, what’s he doin’ in here?” 

“0, he wanted to stay right with the boys, when 
we were captured. He snatched off his shoulder- 
straps and gave his name as a private. Say, don’t 
you make any mistake. He looks slow, but you’ll 
have to travel mighty fast, and go a long ways if 
you keep up with him.” 

“You’ll know me as No. 1,” said Graham, to Si. 
“Whenever we’re around the tunnel always speak 
to me and of me that way. Sergt. Deeble is No. 2. 
There are 15 of us, so you’ll be No. 16. We’ll put 
your partner in the middle of your squad and call 
him No. 20. Some time during the day give the 
other numbers to the rest of your boys. Be very 
careful about it. Tell each boy separately, and don’t 
let anybody hear you. You and your partner come 
along with me, and I’ll show you where the tunnel 
is, and give you some points about the work. Don’t 
walk along with me. We can’t be too careful. This 
camp’s full of spies, and maybe we’ve all been noticed 
talking together. I’ll start first, and saunter slowly 
down in that direction. You start another way, and 


THE BOYS BEGIN WORK ON THE TUNNEL. 255 


make a circuit, keeping me in sight. Let your part- 
ner do the same with you.” 

Threading the narrow, tortuous paths that wound 
around the innumerable little shacks and burrows 
crowding the central part of the prison, avoiding as 
much as possible the harrowing sights that met his 



SI AND SHORTY TALK TO IKE DEEBLE. 


eyes everywhere, but stopping from time to time to 
give some poor helpless fellow a drink of water, or 
turn him into a more comfortable position, Si at 
last arrived at the most miserable and loathsome part* 
of the prison. It was where the creek passed thru 
the stockade, at the eastern side. There were the 


256 


SI KLEGG. 


sinks. The stench was intolerable ; flies and maggots 
swarmed as they did when the plagues descended 
upon Egypt, and only those poor fellows stayed there 
who had not courage and strength to battle for and 
maintain a place in the better sections. 

In the south bank a deep cut had been made in 
the coarse white sand, for the purpose of getting 
earth to All in toward the creek. The sides of the 
excavation were steep and the white, glaring walls 
seemed to concentrate in the wide pit not only the 
awful heat of the sun, but the vermin and the terrific 
stench. 

The band of devoted Christian workers among the 
prisoners, who, though sick and in sore straits them- 
selves, yet filled their days with laborious ministra- 
tions to those who were still worse off, were hard at 
work among the wretched unfortunates. Many were 
almost sinking under the burning heat, yet they were 
carrying water for the helpless men to drink, wash- 
ing the faces and hands of others, and cleansing the 
hair and garments of still others from the torturing 
vermin. Some were singing and praying beside 
those who were dying. And among these Si and 
Shorty found Shad Graham leading in the singing of 
“ Jesus, Lover of My Soul,” in a fine, well-trained 
tenor voice. He greeted them with an almost im- 
perceptible movement of his eyes, and by a turn of 
his hand pointing with his thumb toward a structure 
on the east side of the excavation. 

The cut on that side was seven or eight feet deep, 
and left a bank about 10 feet wide intervening be- 
tween it and the dead-line on that side of the stock- 
ade. Si and Shorty instantly saw its possibilities as 


THE BOYS BEGIN WORK ON THE TUNNEL. 257 


the beginning of a tunnel, if the work could be car- 
ried on without detection. 

There were a number of more or less insufficient 
shacks and shelters around the excavation. They 
were generally blankets or pieces of shelter-tents 
stretched on sticks. In some the inmates lay directly 
on the hot sand. Others had dug down a little ways, 
as if to find a cooler bed than the radiating surface. 
Some had even gone so far as to build walls around, 
of sundried bricks, rudely shaped by the hands. 
These gave a little more coolness, kept out the drift- 
ing sand, and possibly some of the pestiferous 
vermin. 

“Number One’s significant thumb had indicated 
a shack that stood directly against the east bank, and 
this Si and Shorty examined with furtive glances 
from time to time, warily keeping from showing any 
special interest in it. It was clearly of better con- 
struction than any of the others ; several fairly good 
blankets had been used in it, and it was firmly upheld 
by stout sticks thrust deeply into the ground. The 
side of the cut formed the rear wall, the two sides 
had been built up a couple of feet with sun-dried 
bricks, and the front was narrowed by the same 
means to a door. Three men lay inside on a blanket, 
with their legs drawn up as if by scurvy, but Si 
noticed that the place looked better kept than was 
usual in the tents of men so afflicted. 

Then his attention was diverted by the cessation 
of the praying over the dying man, and hearing some 
one of the group around him say : 

“Our brother is gone. He is at peace, at last, with 
Jesus. Let us take his body up to the gate.” 

9 


258 


SI KLEGG. 


“Does anybody around here know this man’s name, 
company and regiment?” Shad Graham inquired, 
producing a strip of paper torn from a diary in his 
bosom, and a stubby lead pencil, while the others 
folded the dead man’s hands across his breast, tied 
his great toes together, and tried to close his eyes 
and mouth as the body stiffened. 

There was no answer. Graham repeated the 
question. 

“No; nobody knows anything about him,” said 
one. “Only that he belonged to Sheridan’s Cavalry. 
He was taken all by himself, when he was carrying 
dispatches, and none of his regiment was with him.” 

“Feel in his pockets and see if there’s anything 
to tell who he was.” 

They did so, and found nothing but a brier-wood 
pipe, a bit of tobacco, and the ambrotype of a pretty 
country girl. 

“Cavalryman — unknown,” wrote Graham on the 
slip of paper they pinned upon the breast. 

“Nos. 13, 14, and 15 are in that tent,” said Gra- 
ham, without turning his head, as he passed Si. “Go 
up and speak to them, calling them by number. I’m 
going out with this body, and’ll be at your tent when 
I come in.” He went off and Si, strolling around, 
and looking at the other tents, and their inmates, 
finally came to the one he started for, and looked in. 

“Hello, Nos. 13, 14, and 15,” he said in a low 
voice. “How are you? Want anything?” 

“Three pair of not-at-all sick eyes turned toward 
him, with some trouble in their expression at the 
strange face and voice. 

“I’m all right,” said Si, interpreting the look. 


THE BOYS BEGIN WORK ON THE TUNNEL. 259 


“I’m a new one, jest jined. No. 1 told me to ask 
you if you wanted anything?” 

“I was in hopes you were the relief. We’re nearly 
dead, laying here with our legs drawed up, and the 
flies and maggots chawing great chunks out of us. I 
declare, I believe they’ve bit off and carried away 
five pounds from me this morning, and I hain’t any 
meat to spare. Talk about resting here. I’d rather 
dig all night, than lay here two hours. You ain’t 
the relief? No? Well, then, for goodness’s sake, 
take that can there and go up on the hill to one of 
the wells and get us some fresh water. You’ll find 
a good well up there by those two pines. If they 
grumble about letting you have the water, tell ’em 
it’s for one o’ old Phil Kearny’s boys.” 

Si took the tin, ,which was apparently an old can 
for ground coffee, and threaded his way thru the 
shacks in the direction of the pines. Presently he 
came to a well dug down 25 or 30 feet thru the sand 
and clay. At the top the sand was held back by some 
split boards, but below the clay was firm enough to 
retain its shape. He noticed that all the men in the 
tents around it wore the red diamond of the First 
Division of the Third Corps. 

“Here,” they said, noticing his can, “you can’t git 
no water here. Go to your own well.” 

“I don’t want it for myself,” he answered. “A 
poor sick boy of Kearny’s old division down there 
asked me to come up an’ git him some fresh, cool 
water.” 

“Certainly, they said, springing up and looking 
around for the bucket with which they drew the 
water up. “He kin have all the water he wants. 
Are you one of Phil Kearny’s old division?” 


260 


SI KLEGG. 


“No; Tm one o’ Pap Thomas’s boys. Was with 
him more’n two years.” 

“Well, that’s the next best thing,” they answered, 
as they adjusted the string, and lowered the bucket. 
“We’ve all heard of old Pap Thomas. He’s nearly 
as good a fighter as one-armed Phil. Where was you 
taken ?” 

“Kenesaw Mountain.” 

“That was an old he-fight, and you come near 
busting the rebels, but Sherman got a very black 
eye at last. Here, hold out your can. You kin have 
all the water you want. We’ve got to take care of 
our well. There ain’t a great deal in it, and if we 
let everybody run to it there wouldn’t be any left for 
ourselves, and besides, they’d cave in the sides and 
choke it up. But come at any time you want to. 
You’re welcome. Let me draw up another bucket 
for a drink for yourself.” 

“Thankee,” said Si, wiping his mouth after filling 
himself with the sweet, cool draft. 

He carried the water back to the boys and learned 
from them in a few words that having been engaged 
in digging and carrying away the latter part of the 
night before, they had to lie in the tents and rest, 
pretending to be very ill, to keep out curious visitors, 
until they were relieved by another detail who kept 
the place until those who were to work that night 
came on. 

Si and Shorty returned to their own tent, and later 
in the day Shad Graham came to them. After some 
few words, said : 

“As my boys are pretty well worn out, I’m going 
to put you, No. 16, to work tonight. You’ll take Nos. 
17 and 18 with you. I’ll be there, and have No. 3 with 


THE BOYS BEGIN WORK ON THE TUNNEL. 261 

me to show you and help you the first night. After 
this, I’ll expect you to run a shift of five men your- 
self. Probably you’d better try to only work till mid- 
night, and then be relieved by Sergt. Deeble — No. 2— 
and your partner — No. 20 — and three others, who’ll 
work till morning, or until the moon gets up so as 
to make it dangerous.” 

“No; I’ll try to keep it up all night,” said Si. 
“That’ll be better than wakin’ up the boys at mid- 
night.” 

“Very well then. As soon’s it’s good and dark, 
come down one at a time. You’ll find me sitting on 
the bank near where the cut begins, just where you 
turn to go. into it, on the east side.” 

Si designated Monty Scruggs as No. 17; Gid 
Mackall as No. 18, and Harry Joslyn as No. 19. 
Shorty bestowed No. 21 upon Alf Russell; No. 22 
upon Sandy Baker, and No. 23 upon Pete Skidmore. 
The youngsters were all keen to go to work, and 
Shorty’s squad felt that they were discriminated 
against by having their participation deferred for 
another night. It was still harder to obey Si’s injunc- 
tions not to say a word even to one another about 
the enterprise. 

As dusk deepened into darkness, Si arose and 
walked down to the ration-place on the South Side, 
followed at a little distance by Monty, Gid and 
Harry. He sauntered along as if going to join the 
crowd hanging around the gate, and then seemed 
to change his mind, and start down the slope across 
the creek. Then he turned squarely to the right, and 
began making his way southeast, thru the crowded 
tents, toward the other side of the prison. It was 
slow traveling and difficult following, but by the 


262 


SI KLEGG. 


time he reached the neighborhood of the dead-line 
on the east side the eager boys were close behind 
him. He turned to the left again and walked down 
toward the creek. The tents thinned out as he 
approached the squalid place, but he had to be care- 
ful to keep from stepping on the helpless men lying 
there. At the edge of the excavation he saw a figure 
seated. 

“No. 16?” said a low voice. 

“Yes, No. 1,” answered Si; “an’ here’s Nos. 17, 18, 
an’ 19.” 

“Very good. You’re prompt. No. 16, follow me, 
at a little distance. The rest of you deploy out a 
little more, and follow us. When you see us go into 
the tent, halt and wait till your numbers are called. 
Then come in.” 

He walked down and around to the tent which 
he entered, and a minute later another man came 
out. He called in a low tone as he passed : 

“No. 17.” 

Monty Scruggs walked up to the tent and entered. 

“Squat down,” said Shad Graham. “No. 9, you 
go now. Call No. 18 as you pass.” 

A moment later Gid entered and squatted down. 

“You go, now, No. 10,” said Shad, and call No. 19.” 

Harry Joslyn came in, and No. 11 was dismissed. 

“Let’s get this blanket up, boys,” said Graham. 
“Now, the mouth of the tunnel is right here, covered 
by this wooden tray, filled with sand. Feel around 
there by your knees, No. 16, and you’ll find the edge. 
Catch hold of it and lift it up, same time as I do this 
side. There you are !” 

When the tray was lifted up and out, Si was con- 
scious of a hole in the ground, which it had con- 


THE BOYS BEGIN WORK ON THE TUNNEL. 263 


cealed. He saw thru the plan at once. When quit- 
ting work the entrance to the tunnel had been cov- 
ered with the tray of plank, filled with sand. The 
sand on either side had been smoothed down to con- 
ceal the edges, and then a blanket spread over, upon 
which apparently very sick men lay during the day. 

“Here is the mouth of the tunnel,” said Graham, 
taking Si’s hand and placing it on a stick of wood, 
which supported the ground, at the entrance, and 
was a little lower than the tent floor. Here is a half- 
canteen and a case-knife, with which we dig. We 
always keep them here. Here are two drawers legs 
in which we carry out the dirt. Nos. 18 and 19, you 
each take one. You fill them up with dirt, and walk 
over to the edge of the creek, untie the lower end, 
and let the dirt dribble into the water. Be careful 
'to carry 'them close to you in such a way as to not to 
attract the attention of any one wandering around, 
for there are lots of spies in here every night, and 
you don’t want even the men around here to notice 
that there is anything going on at this tent more than 
occasional men coming in and going out. When you 
get to the creek let the dirt run out quietly and 
slowly into the water, so that it will wash along, and 
make no sign, as it would if emptied on the ground 
anywhere. Be mighty careful, too, not to make a 
splash, which will attract the attention of the guard, 
and draw his fire on you. Each of you try to go a 
different way when you leave the tent, every time, so 
as to make it look as if you were going from some of 
the other tents. Nos. 8 and 19, do you thoroughly 
understand?” 

“We do,” answered Monty and Gid. 

“I’ll go into the tunnel and dig as long as I can,” 


264 


SI KLEGG. 


continued Graham. “It’ll not be a great while, for 
we’ve struck hard clay, and it’s tough work. I’ll 
throw the dirt under me, and work it back with my 
feet to No. 16, who’ll scrape it back with his hands 
under him, and then work it with his feet to No. 
17, who’ll pull it out of the mouth of the tunnel, and 
put it in the bags for Nos. 18 and 19. When I get 
tired, we’ll all back out, No. 16 will take my place 
digging, and No. 17 his place, and I’ll take No. 19’s 
place carrying away. Now, you all understand, and 
the less we say hereafter the better. Everybody 
wants to keep quiet and work, and do everything to 
avoid attracting attention.” 

He picked up the half-canteen and knife in his 
left hand, and used his right to propel himself into 
the hole, whither he was followed by Si and then 
by Monty. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


AN UNEXPECTED MISHAP TO THE TUNNEL. 

I T seemed actually stifling in the hole into which 
Si had followed Shad Graham. There was small 
breathing room there for a man who had always 
felt that a Township was none too big to furnish him 
with fresh air. Then, the stench outside, which 
seemed overpowering, appeared to be concentrated 
in the tunnel. Si gasped as he entered, but Graham 
pulled -sturdily forward, and Si followed him. 

The hole was but very little wider than Si’s broad 
shoulders, so that his arms were cramped in their 
action. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have trouble in getting along,” 
Graham said. “This hole wasn’t built for men who 
have as miich meat on ’em as you have. Here, take 
this half-canteen. You can scrape some off the sides 
here and there, and give you more room. I won’t 
need it, anyway. I’ve struck some hardpan, where 
it’ll be of no use. I’ll have to cut out chunks with 
the knife,” 

As near as Si could judge, the tunnel started low 
enough to pass under the stockade, and had been 
pushed forward about 15 feet or more. This would 
take them a foot or two under the 20-foot of space 
between the dead-line and the stockade, and was, 
therefore, less than half-done, for they would have 
( 265 ) 


266 


SI KLEGG. 


to go quite as far beyond the stockade on the out- 
side, in order to come up at some distance from the 
guard, and hope to escape his observation. 

Si was surprised at the energy with which Shad 
Graham attacked the hard clay with his inefficient 
tool. He stabbed into the earth with his knife, and 
pulled and pried until he had dislodged clods, which 
he rolled back under him to Si, who passed them on, 
with handfuls of dirt, to Monty, who in turn passed 
them out to the boys. They broke them up into 
smaller pieces, to make no splash in the water, and 
be readily dissolved by it, and stuffed the dirt into 
the drawers legs. 

As one of the guards was perched at one side 
where the creek issued from the stockade, another 
at the other side, and one directly over the course of 
the tunnel, the greatest care was enjoined upon the 
boys in carrying out and emptying the dirt. No 
trail must be left leading to the tent, for the rebels 
inspected the ground every day for signs of digging, 
and any trace of the red clay thru which they were 
now digging would be a dead giveaway. They must 
dribble it along in the water of the creek so that 
it would be scattered and carried some distance, and 
not be noticeable. They must do this in such a way 
as not to attract the notice of the guard, who would 
not only shoot but alarm the camp, and bring about a 
discovery of their work. To instruct Harry and Gid 
in this had been No. 3’s duty, and he carefully taught 
them to carry their burdens as if they were the little 
bags of meal which the prisoners sometimes carried, 
and to wade into the creek at different places, and as 
they emptied the dirt, scatter it with their feet, to 
make it' less noticeable. The boys were a little ner- 


A MISHAP TO THE TUNNEL. 


267 


vous about the guards at first, as they had to start 
out under the very eyes of the one over the tunnel, 
and do their work in the face of those on both sides 
of the creek. They would start at every noise from 
the guard-perches. Presently they got used to this, 
however, and over the feeling that every time the 
guard changed the position of his musket he was 
raising it to shoot at them. 

Si was tired almost to faintness in pulling out the 
dirt, before Shad Graham showed any weariness in 
digging. Then Graham remarked: 

“There, I’ll have to come out and rest a little, I 
think I’ve dug six inches, and shaped it up well on 
the sides. Crab back, boys, and let me out.” 

They all backed into the tent, and presently Gra- 
ham emerged, his face covered with perspiration, 
and his hands muddy from the clay having mixed 
with the sweat. 

“Goodness,” he gasped, “that clay’s as tough as 
whitleather. It’s the worst I’ve struck yet. And the 
old knife’s getting duller every minute. Now, No. 
16, when you go in, be very careful to dig the same 
with both hands. Dig just exactly as much with 
your left hand as you do with your right, to keep 
the hole heading straight for the stockade. If you 
don’t, you’ll make a curve to the left. That’s the 
mistake that all men make when they begin digging 
tunnels, and the first thing they know they have them 
shaped like a horseshoe.” 

“I understand,” said Si, a new idea striking him. 

“Don’t be discouraged by the slow headway you 
make,” continued Graham. “A little at a time goes 
far in a day. Don’t be ambitious and try to dig too 
much the first time. You’ll break yourself down. 


268 


SI KLEGG. 


You faint in the hole and give us no end of trouble 
getting you out. If you dig an inch or so, or even 
just learn how to dig, it’ll' be all that you can do, or 
ought to do, the first trial. Now, remember to stop 
and crab back just as soon’s you begin to feel tired.” 

Si outwardly acquiesced, but inwardly resolved 
that he would dig possibly several feet before he 
stopped. 

Graham dismissed No. 3, and took Gid Mackall’s 
place in carrying olf, while Si, grasping the knife, 
crawled into the hole, followed by Monty and Harry, 
Gid remaining at the mouth. 

The air grew still heavier and more mephitic as Si 
crawled in, until it seemed as if he could not breathe. 
But he attacked the clay energetically with his knife. 
In spite of the simplicity of the task, he had never 
attempted anything so difficult before in his life. His 
head swam, the utter darkness confused him, feel of 
the ground was utterly strange and unnatural, the 
narrow sides of the tunnel cramped his arms and 
misdirected his blows. He could not make a natural 
motion, and only jabbed feebly and vainly at the 
clay beyond his head. This baffling helped to excite 
him, he was speedily bathed in perspiration, and in 
a few minutes so weak that he had to stop and rest. 
He then felt over the face of the cut carefully ; began 
to recognize its nature, and the way to go to work. 
But he did not make an inch of real progress, nor 
get out enough dirt to fill one of the bags, before he 
saw that it was wise to follow Graham’s injunctions, 
and back out for a rest. 

In view of his experience, Si laid down positive 
injunctions to Monty that he must not remain more 
than five minutes in the hole, or sufficiently long to 


A MISHAP TO THE TUNNEL. 


269 


get acquainted with the work. Then, if he did not 
come out, Harry was to catch hold of his foot and 
pull him out, while Gid did the same to Harry, and 
Si would pull the whole string. 

Being much smaller than Si, Monty, also less 
affected by the vitiated air, was able to do quite a 
little digging before the relentless grip of Harry on 
his ankle haled him back. Then he clasped his hands 
on the ground in front of him, and triumphantly 
brought with him quite a pile of dirt, to show the 
progress that he had made. It was the same with 
Harry and Gid, and when Graham went in again for 
inspection, he was gratified to find that nearly a foot 
cf progress had been made during the evening. He 
did little more while he was inside than shape up the 
sides, and assure himself that the course of the tun- 
nel was being kept straight, for now the moon was 
rising rapidly, and work would have to be abandoned. 

As the light became stronger, Graham, bent and 
hobbling as if suffering from scurvy, went around 
and examined carefully to see that no trail of red 
clay had been left to hint at their work. Not a stray 
clod escaped his sharp eyes. He pressed it into the 
earth with his foot, and drew a covering of sand 
over it. 

He returned to the tent presently, and ordered: 

“Put the cover back and draw sand over it. Now 
spread the blanket down again. No. 16, go to your 
quarters. Nos. 17, 18, and 19, lie down on the 
blanket and go to sleep. When you wake up in the 
morning, draw up your legs and pretend to have the 
scurvy awful bad, to anybody that looks in. Keep 
your ears open to everything going on about the tent, 
though. If anybody tries to take anything away, 


270 


SI KLEGG. 


reach up for that club you’ll find just above your 
hehds, jump up and make him get out. Don’t more 
than one of you go out at a time, though, unless you 
have to. Don’t talk any more than you’re actually 
obliged to. You’ll stay here until Nos. 4, 5, and 6 
come down here to relieve you, after their roll call, 
and then you’ll have time to go up to your own roll 
call.” 

In his desire to take the bulk of the disagreeable 
work on himself, Si had wanted to take the trick of 
remaining in the tent, but No. l’s orders were not 
to be discussed, and Si sauntered back home, taking 
occasional studies of all the approaches to the tunnel, 
and calculating the probabilities. He grew quite 
hopeful. The plan was excellent, and under Gra- 
ham’s rigid discipline had every promise of success. 
All this he communicated to the expectant Shorty, 
who was eager to begin his share of the work. 

He was also disturbed on the food and money 
question. 

“What are we goin’ to do about them boys, Si, if 
we don’t git out soon? They’re bracin’ up splendid, 
an’ purtendin’ they’re all right, but I can see that 
they’re gittin’ peakeder an’ peakeder every day — 
especially Pete. An’ Sandy Baker ain’t a fut behind. 
Then, our money’s runnin’ low. We’ve bin careful 
an’ only spent a little every day to git some little 
thing to help out the boys’ rations, but now we’re 
gittin’ near the end o’ our bank account, an’ I don’t 
know where more’s to come from unless Providence 
helps agin with a dumb old ’Squire who’s jest sold 
a nigger, which ain’t likely.” 

Si could give no consolation. 

Monty Scruggs ransacked his elocutionary work- 


A MISHAP TO THE TUNNEL. 


271 



basket in vain for some selection that would do 
justice to the plague of vile creeping things that 
attacked him and his companions as they were lying 
there, while the sun climbed up in all his fierce 
strength, and the interior of the prison seethed under 


“l CAN SEE ’EM GETTIN’ PEAKEDER AN’ PEAKEDER 
EVERY DAY.” 

the burning heat. After exhausting all his boyish 
expletive, he remarked : 

“Boys, the worst thing that I want done to Jeff 
Davis, after we bust the rebellion, is to make him a 
prisoner a year right here in this tent, without being 
allowed to move or stir. If that don’t make him 
repent of his treason, nothing ever will.” 






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